Chapter 2

Author's note - sorry everyone. Raine's surname is of course Leonhart not Heartlily or even Heartilly (duh!). Anyway, enjoy Chapter 2!

Chapter 2

Cid's mouth opened wide in surprise. 'What's he doing with that?' he gasped.

'What needs to be done,' replied his acquaintance.

'But ….. I don't understand….. what….'

'Look,' said the man, losing patience, 'she's a witch, right? She was supposed to be looking after Raine's father, but instead she killed him, right? A life demands a life, right?'

Cid backed away, shaking his head. He knew that Edea had been caring for Raine's father, but the old man was very ill. There was nothing that could be done except make him comfortable. Raine had told him that herself.

But how was he to make the crowd see that. More people had spotted the farmer with the gun, and there were now deafening cheers going up, drowning all other sound. The people were moving to make a pathway for the farmer, pushing backwards, packing tighter together, then closing up behind him as he passed. It would be impossible for Cid to force his way through now, even if they would have listened to what he had to say.

He stood on the edge of the crowd, fear twisting his stomach in knots. He barely knew Edea, but he did know Raine, and he knew that none of this was Raine's idea. She wasn't even out here. He stood and watched the farmer approach the house.

'Hey, Witch,' the man called. The crowd cheered him loudly, then fell silent again. There was no reply from the house, which seemed to incense the man even more.

'If you don't come out here by the time I count to ten, I'm coming in after you!' he shouted, again to further roars of approval from the crowd.

Cid felt sick to the pit of his stomach. He had to act, had to do something. But the size of the crowd made acting alone suicidal. He turned away, battling tears of impotent rage.

*************

Inside the house, Edea was watching proceedings from an upstairs window, through a gap in the curtains. Her heart was pounding, and her stomach was twisted into knots. It was happening again, the endless cycle. This time she had hoped it would be different, but she should have known better.

She would arrive in a place, any place, as long as there was a quiet, empty house for her to settle in. She would make a few friends, but keep largely to herself. Then something would happen - perhaps a child would graze its knee, or a farm worker would break a leg - and the healer in her could not hold back. She had to help.

Word would spread quickly about the new healer who had come to town. Requests for her services would soon include everything from blisters to births. And then people would start asking for the other stuff, the love potions, the curses, the undetectable poisons. Refusal to give such help would always offend, because people suspected she could give such help, but that for some reason she would not. The truth was somewhere in between - she knew such things were possible, but she had never studied them, purposely to avoid such requests. The irony was heartbreaking.

The final stage of the process soon followed. Only a witch could know about curses and such like, and just because Edea wasn't giving them out didn't mean she didn't know any. In fact, the twisted logic suggested, it made it more likely. The reason she wouldn't tell must be that she was using them for herself. And so people came to the conclusion that they were harbouring a witch in their town. There would be whispers and rumours, the odd rotten egg in the street. And finally there would be a trigger, a single event that would spark off the end of the process, just as a single event had sparked the beginning.

The timescale varied, of course, anything from two years to twenty. The last time she had been in Winhill, she had lived happily in this house for nearly twenty years. She was the witch their mothers' fairytales had taught them about. Three generations had passed since she was last here, but the memory remained.

Of course, she shouldn't have stayed so long, not without foreseeing the consequences. The women who had been newly weds when she arrived were looking forward to grandchildren, yet she hadn't aged a single day. They came to her, asking for the secret, the cream or potion which preserved her looks. Of course it didn't exist, at least not in a form which they could use, and of course they didn't believe it.

At least that time their accusation of 'witch' had been closer to the truth. It was the power of the Sorceress which kept her hair dark and her skin smooth. It preserved its host (or victim), holding back the effects of time. Death for a Sorceress was often swift, but rarely painless, coming as it usually did by the sword. And before the Sorceress could be allowed to die, the power demanded a new host. The Sorceress who had given Edea her powers had been lying in a pool of her own blood for days before the tiny girl stumbled across her.

This was the reality of her situation. She had neither looked for, nor expected such a future. As a small child, she had been seduced by the power to feed herself whenever she was hungry, to destroy the bullies who had made her life miserable. She had grown to womanhood in the normal way, but there she and time had become strangers. And now, reality was pounding on her door once again.

The evening had begun like any other. She had left Raine's father comfortable for the night, had a brief chat with Raine and returned home. She had begun her preparations for bed and was mounting the stairs, carrying her single candle, when the noises outside first reached her ears.

Shielding the light from her candle, she put her eye to a crack in the shutters and felt her heart stop beating. There was already a crowd gathering around her door, some holding torches which cast an eerie light. The end had come, but much earlier than she had expected. What could have happened, what catalyst had caused them to turn so suddenly?

One skill which the power of the Sorceress gave her which she was usually grateful for was enhanced hearing. But this time she could have lived quite happily without it. All the ugly, spiteful words from the crowd came to her ears, all the accusations and half truths, and the fact of the death of Raine's father. Tears welled up in her eyes, grief for the old man and his daughter. And, if she was truthful, for herself. She had been as happy here, for a while, as she had been anywhere. Now reality had kicked in again.

She had left the downstairs window, blowing out the candle as she went. She took the stairs two at a time, arriving in her bedroom panting. She rummaged in her drawers and pulled out her travelling clothes, leather pants, boots and jerkin, wool shirt and cloak. She dressed as quickly as possible, then stuffed a few items in her knapsack. Then she went over to the window, to check on developments.

Edea watched the farmer with the gun cross the square and felt her stomach churn. As he came closer, she saw the stranger in the crowd, the one who had asked for directions to the hotel. Cid something, Raine had called him. The light was too uncertain for her to make out his face, but why else would he be there unless his intention was the same as everyone else's?

As the farmer bellowed out his challenge, she knew she had to move quickly. With any luck, the attention of the crowd would be kept on the front of the house and they would be ignoring the rear. She hurried down the stairs, reaching the bottom just as the door burst open.

*********************

As the farmer's countdown started, Cid began pushing his way through the crowd. It was hard going, the bodies were jammed so tightly together and people were reluctant to move aside. He had no idea of what he would do when he reached the farmer, he only knew that he had to something. Suddenly, he felt a hand on his arm and turned. It was Raine.

'Quick, Cid, before I'm seen,' she whispered. He nodded, and followed her through the door of the darkened bar. He could tell by her voice that she had been crying. She held his hand as she walked ahead to try to stop him bumping into the tables and chairs.

She stopped at the back door and turned to face him. She pushed a knapsack into his hands. In the moonlight he could see fresh tears on her cheek. He moved to comfort her, but she pushed him away.

'Thanks, for your concern, Cid, but there's no time. We have to get Edea out of that house. Luckily those, those scumbags haven't thought about covering the back door.'

Cid was shocked by the venom in her voice, and she noticed his look of surprise. She smiled slightly to take the sting out of her words.

'They claim they are acting for me, but I never asked them to attack Edea, and they didn't ask if I thought it was a good idea. They just wanted an excuse, any excuse, and my poor father provided it by passing on tonight instead of in a couple of months as we expected.' She shook her head. 'Look Cid, I'll be OK. But we have to help Edea, and we have to do it now. There's food for both of you in the bag, and you can take the chocobos from our stable. The people will assume you stole them. Now, come on!'

She dragged him along through the stables, grabbing the reins of the two saddled chocobos as she went. The stable block jutted out at the back of the row of buildings. There was a wide gate at the rear, but there was a smaller one at the side which opened on the same side as Edea's house. Raine had already unbolted it, and they passed through quite easily, although the chocobos found it a bit of a squeeze. They moved silently along the back of Edea's house. Just as they reached the back door, they both froze as a terrible sound reached their ears, the sound of gunfire.