Story of the Sorceress

By GoldenGoddess

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Author's Note: Yay! Chapter three and I'm already lost. I got the feel I wanted from the last chapter, but couldn't retain it in this one. *cries* Why?! Anyway, thankies for the reviews, pplz. It makes me feel fantastical. Oh, and I forget how the Coo-hatch talk! Forgive me if I get it wrong. *blush* I gotta go and check out the Everworld series again. My librarian says I'm the only one in my city that checks it out, so they should all be there.

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Chapter Three


America.


I stared up at the massive tree: four times my height and five times my width. But the width was easily accomplished. I glanced down at my thin body, the tattered clothing hanging loosely on the frame. I would be harder to spot as a beggar than dressed as a priest of Isis. The sun shone dimly through the leaves, casting different shades of green on the forest floor, already covered by yellowed pine needles and leaf fragments. I inhaled deeply: it had been a while since I had seen these trees. On my first visit to Everworld, thirteen years before....


"Witch."


Snapped from my reverie, I started. One of the Coo-hatch, a female by the aura, stared at me with those odd eyes. Royal blue, then crimson at the center. "Yes?" I was used to people calling me by that.


The female paused, holding her intense gaze, then said, "Coo-hatch... discussed. We-"


"Proobabloobaloobaboo!"


Everyone's heads jerked up. It's an odd thing to see on a Coo-hatch, and really quite comical. I mused at the fact that they could twist their heads nearly all the way around, much like owls, when something dropped from the trees. Actually, several somethings. In all different shades of colors. I thought at first that they were nymphs. The height, and assortment of colors were the same. Then remembered we were in North America. They slid down thick, black, writhing ropes and, as soon as their tiny feet touched the ground, ran about our group, madly shrilling their war cry.


As soon as I got a look at one of them, I gasped. She, though the body could have been a young male, blinked up at me with eyes that took up nearly half of her heart-shaped face. They were pupil-less, violet eyes in a lilac face, a button of a nose and full scarlet lips. She was quite pretty, until I noticed the spikes.


Yes. Spikes. Along the ridges of her massive butterfly wings. They were visible when she turned around to terrorize a Coo-hatch.


"My, god," I whispered, "what are they?"


"Ett," drawled a familiar, southern voice. My body froze. In an instant I felt the familiar fear, and an old memory came back, buried for ten years, now as clear as day:


"Mommy?" Senda asked, clutching my hand as we scrambled to find a seat on the subway. They were always crowded, especially on Christmas Eve. Everyone in their thick, warm jackets, sitting comfortably, nestled between two or three bags of last-minute gifts. But my daughter and I had something more urgent. We had to blend in this time, though we looked like two homeless people, shivering in patched clothing.


I tried to water down the magic emanating from us, but even then Senda;s power was strong. It shone like a beacon despite all my efforts. I tried to show her how to do it herself, but it was impossible. My own Glow was still noticeable, but nothing compared to Senda's.


"Dammit," I muttered, glancing down the row of seats. Bridgid's boy. He stood there, under a flickering light, the strange lighting making him seem more ominous.


"Anica Wales!" He yelled, drawing a sword from his belt. "You can go quietly, or with a fight. Which will it be?"


I stumbled backward, bumping into Senda and knocking her down. I expected Victor to smile at the little girl, but his silvery-blue eyes remained focused on me.


'He doesn't know I have a child,' I thought. Standing in front of Senda, I confronted him. How foolish had I been...?


Victor grinned, white teeth with a broad smile. He had the most beautiful smile. His long, white-blonde hair was tied in a horse-tail, as it had always been, several stray strand covering his eyes. "Ett," he repeated, in a southern accent so odd for a son of a Norse goddess. Victor had been seventeen for the last fifteen years I've known him, probably longer. It made sense, since his mother was Idun, Norse goddess of youth.


"Those aren't Ett."


"Had a run-in with some gods, then interbred with the strangest things." He patted a taller female on the head as she passed. "All sorts of species."


I felt sick, realizing his meaning. But the sickness that came afterward was fear. Victor cocked his head slightly to one side. "Don't worry. Last time was strictly business." He chopped the air sideways with his hand to emphasize his point. "I have nothing against you. Nothing at all. I was a tad irritated when you set me on fire," Victor trailed off, staring blankly ahead. Then he smiled, a forced, pained smile. "But what's done is done. I've forgiven you, as I'm sure you've forgiven me for sending your daughter after you."


My throat worked to swallow nothing. "You sent...."


"Yes, but who wouldn't be slightly peeved at someone, more respectfully, their former friend, to SET-THEM-ON-FIRE?!"


I winced, throwing up my hands in a feeble attempt of protection. It was bad enough to anger a demi-god, but one who has some of Loki's blood in his background?


"Time, Anica, is such a precious thing," he said, all sweetness and reason now. "It heals. When you last left me, what did I look like?"


Like the most horrible burn victim. The blast of fire had engulfed him, not relinquishing until Senda and I had escaped, his torturous screams following us every step of the way. We were both sobbing, and all of the people in the car were dead from Victor's own magic. But for the first few seconds I had watched, hands clamped over Senda's eyes to shield her from the sight that still haunts me. The flesh of his face peeled, crackled, curled off as if being shaved by an invisible scraper. His arms were melting: they had been hit first by the fire when he lifted them up. Victor stood, a human torch, screaming screaming screaming until his voice was raw. Then, after a few convulsive twitches, he fell to the ground with a sick thud, and the flames died away. Though I was a block away, I saw it in my mind, saw the effects of my own terrible act.


Tears threatened to spill over. It was painful to even recall the incident. Lifting my face to look at him, Victor cracked the back of his hand across it, sharp as a knife on my cheek. "Victor-"


"Time heals all wounds," he muttered to himself. "I;m sure it will do for you, what it did for me. Let's see."


"No, no, please, Victor!" I crawled backwards on the palm of my hands, rustling the dead leaves on the ground. I hadn't even been aware of being knocked down. "M-mer-merc-"


He flashed a grin at me, a seventeen-year old grin: young, foolish, care-free. But his eyes held the hate of centuries. "Now, now, remember: mercy is for the weak!"

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-.-' Okay, sorry for cutting off there. Imagine his face being nice and happy and the beginning of the sentence, then turning into a snarl as he utters the last words. How was the chapter?

Anica- Am I going to die?! In only chapter three?

G.G.- Hey, don't complain. Be luck you even have your own story.

Anica- . You-You blackmailer!

G.G.- :-D Yes! Anica has become part of my consciousness. It should be a tad easier to write for her now.

Anica-*grumble*