3. Spiraling Downwards
Despite his insistence, Carrie refused to answer any of Yorick's questions or comments about what had transpired at Actrise's lair. She would not speak of it. Carrie began to work in silence. She took the fragment of stone tablet that she had found and cast a translation spell on it. The tablet began to hover of its own accord. Its foreign inscription began to glow bright green as a magical force began to try and transform the inscription into something remotely legible. Finally Carrie just turned and paid attention to Yorick. Her eyes stared into his empty eye sockets.
"Ready to talk now?" Yorick asked.
Carrie shook her head vaguely. "Not really. I don't have the time. I'm going into the town. Perhaps I can try something while I wait to for this tablet to be translated."
"Such as?"
Yorick watched as her face transformed into one of total desperation. "I don't know," she whispered.
In the interests of allaying the townspeople's fears, Carrie chose to travel by horse rather than by magical means. It took her and hour's ride to reach the edge of town. As she rode through its small streets she marveled at how much it had changed since she had been a small girl. In her day the area was only made up of a few loosely joined villages. Now it was a modestly large town. She had come into the town before but normally at night. In recent years she had been compelled to stay out of public view because of the commonly held belief that she was an evil witch. Even in this modern era the people of this land still clung hard to the ancient tradition of burning witches at the stake. The very thought of which sent a flood of old memories racing back into her mind. But that was behind her now. She shook her head as though trying to physically shove the memories back into whatever corner of her mind they had emerged from. Her immediate issue was finding out where Bess lived. An unfortunate side effect of her reclusion is that she would have no idea where the young lady lived.
As soon as the townspeople caught sight of her dark green cloak they knew who she was. Some stared in disbelief, others began to mumble curses under their breath, and some even dropped what they were holding and began to run in the opposite direction. How strange Carrie thought, to be so well known by a mass of people whom she had hardly ever had contact with. Finally she stopped her horse by one of those that stared in disbelief. It was a young man. Her proximity made him back away somewhat. Carrie smiled as politely as she could.
"I'm looking for a friend of mine. A young lady, her name is Bess. I don't know her last really, but would you know where she lives?"
The young man remained silent his head shaking a little. Carrie smiled again this time adding an emerald glow to her eyes. "A woman named Bess has a sick little girl. Where does she live?" Finally the young man accorded her a response in the form of a gesture. His hand went up in the general direction of a street to Carrie's left.
Carrie took her horse in the direction indicated by the young man and continued riding until she saw a small crowd outside a small residential building. Carrie tied her horse near the front and approached the crowd. As she came into view of the others who were in the crowd they slowly began to open a path for her to enter. The townsfolk literally jumped out of the way to avoid making contact with her. Eventually she made it to the front door where a middle-aged woman was standing almost on guard.
"I would like to see Bess," she asked softly.
The woman eyed her for a moment examining her head to before releasing a low sigh indicating for her to enter. Once she had stepped through the threshold, the woman called after her. "Second floor, first door to your left." Carrie followed her directions exactly and knocked on the appropriate door. Carrie did her best to hide her distaste when it was Wilhelm who opened the door.
"Have you brought any good news, witch?"
"Yes, they found your manners at the bottom of a well. Why don't be good fellow and jump down and fetch them."
Wilhelm was on the point of answering when Bess's voice was heard calling from within. "Let her through, please." Carrie smiled as Wilhelm opened the door wide enough for her to enter. Bess and her husband were living well enough Carrie thought. They were rooming in this board house, which offered them the most important comforts of home, roof, beds, and a room for the family to gather in. The middle-aged woman downstairs probably cooks meals for her renters.
Bess and her husband were in the child's room. They were standing vigil over her as they had probably been for many hours. She could see it in their weary eyes. Bess turned to Carrie as she entered the room. Her cheeks were still damp from the tears that had been rolling down them all day long.
"Do you bring good news?"
Carrie breathed heavily. "Nothing concrete. But I hope to have something soon. In the meantime I should like to try a few things. Will you permit me?"
Bess looked to her child. Her hand reached out and touched her little girl's face before she nodded solemnly. Bess rose up from the chair she had been seated in.
"The others are here."
"Others?" Carrie asked quizzically.
"Edward, Florence, Diana, and Anthony. They have all brought their
children. They are in the other rooms. I sent word to them. I knew
when they heard it was you that was helping they would want to be here
as well."
"Yes. It also makes the job of curing them much easier."
Bess's eyes brightened. "So there is hope?"
"There is always hope, Bess."
For the next several hours Carrie examined all the children. All them were in identical conditions as Bess's child. All of them had similar writing on their arms. Carrie instantly added the writings to the translation enchantment. With more examples of writing to draw from, she hoped the spell would give her the answer she needed all the more quickly. And so it was midday the day after that Carrie, laying back in a seat exhausted from trying more than a dozen different techniques, received a sudden jolt from a bolt of magical lightening. The thunderbolt came in through an open window startling all those present and headed directly towards Carrie. Carrie jumped from her seat and stared at her ring. Everyone in the room followed her gaze. Slowly from the ring emerged the familiar green mist. The skull familiar emerged from the ring quicker than usual.
"I have the answer you are seeking." Yorick pronounced proudly. Bess and company looked at the floating skull with attention and amazement all at once. Not wasting anytime he reported with a most urgent tone. "Your spells have not been able to counter the magic that has been imposed upon these children because it is of a different species of magic."
It was one of Carrie's childhood friends, Anthony, who asked the question. "A different species?"
Carrie picked up the explanation. "I've read on the topic, what little there is. Its similar to the theory of Charles Darwin." Carrie looked around the room and found only blank stares. She realized at that moment that the writings of Charles Darwin were not likely to have made it this far east or into a mostly agricultural community for that matter. "The essential part of Darwin's theory that concerns us is that he postulated that species all over the planet strive for survival in different ways according to their environment. Better-said, different species adapt differently to their environment. Now what does this have to do with magic? Simple. In the same way that species "evolved" or "adapted" differently around the world, so did magic. The reason the children cannot respond to my spells is because the magic that is holding them does not speak my language. It works differently."
"But what does this mean for the children?" Bess insisted.
"It means that I will need to find magic of the same kind that has caught hold of them to be able to release them."
"And where will you find that?" It was Wilhelm who spoke now.
Carrie cast him a cursory glance. She then looked to Yorick who nodded in turn. "It has been determined that this script is Scandinavian in origin." A sudden wave of whispers and murmurs filled the room. Yorick floated a little higher so that all could see him. "Norway, surely you have heard of Norway!" Carrie began to shake her head. There was no time for a geography lesson.
"I want all the children brought into this room. Lay them side by side with the writing on their arms facing upwards where I can see them!" Carrie ordered aloud. Instantly everyone in the room began to move. Carrie meanwhile continued to converse with Yorick.
"There is something you need to be aware of, Carrie." Yorick spoke to her in a more restrained tone. "Like so many of the mages of old, writing did not exist. Enchantments were handed down through a form of oral tradition. Writing did not enter into the culture of Norwegian mages until quite at the end of their era."
"The end of their era? You mean they don't exist anymore?"
"These Norwegian people are very strong folk. Although the majority of the people continued to believe in Odin, Thor, and others as Gods, they were in fact not even mages. They were warriors who killed all of the wizards and sorcerers. Overtime the tales of these warriors who were able to kill the mages were so great that they became known as Gods themselves."
"For the true identity of these warriors to have been lost to the passage of time must mean that whatever forces are at work here are truly ancient." Carrie said in amazement.
"Exactly. And the dangerous part is that Norwegian magic is based totally on oral incantations. At their height, one of their wizards need only mumble a phrase and he could bring a mountain down upon you."
Carrie stood silent as she pondered on the implications of Yorick's words. All the while, the parents of the different children brought their young ones and laid them side by side as instructed. The parents took bed sheets and placed them underneath the children to cushion them against the hard wood floor. Wilhelm had spent most of his time in the background just observing. The parents really didn't need his help moving the children. It wasn't really his sort of work anyway. He was just here to keep watch on the witch. He didn't trust her or her kind. It was their kind that put a curse on his father's land once many years ago. For years nothing would grow in his fields. Finally one day he had to sell the plot for just a small bag of coins. But that was not the worst of it. After he sold it, the new owner hired him as an indentured servant. His father became a slave to a plot of land that wouldn't grow. Finally when he could bear no more, and the landowner was screaming for his money, his father took his own life. All because of a witches curse. For that reason, Wilhelm has never seen a witch a anything good for anyone, and he doesn't think he ever will. He circled the children eying very closely the writing on their harms. "Damn witchery," he mumbled so that no one but he could hear. The script didn't even look like writing. It seemed just like a series of interesting lines. He stared at them intently trying to see if he could somehow understand what they said. Wilhelm came to stop circling the children at their feet. He stood dead center at a point where he could the writings plainly. Probably what the witch wanted to do. Stand where he was now and look at the writing all-together. It was then that he noticed it. The lines no longer seemed like random intersecting ones. They seemed familiar all of the sudden. At first he thought his eyes were tricking him. Then he read the first arm.
"The souls of sacrifice..."
In an almost trance like state he continued to read the writings on the arms of the children one by one. "...belong to he who ate...the arm of great warriors...of Hemidal's rank...Fenris.
Instantly the children rose up from their improvised beds and stared emptily in Wilhelm's direction. Everyone in the room reacted with surprise at the sudden activity from the children. Carrie strode to Wilhelm's side to get a view of what was happening. She grabbed Wilhelm by the arm and pulled on it harshly.
"What did you do?"
Wilhelm just shook his head intensely. "Nothing. I did nothing! Its your damn witchery that is at work here."
Carrie was about to respond when suddenly the children spoke. All eyes were on the children suddenly as they began to speak in a tongue totally foreign to them all. Even Carrie was at a loss to understand their words. All the while they spoke the children's eyes glowed with an ominous hue. They spoke in chorus a long phrase and then went silent. Parents clutched one another in apprehension. The sudden silence was sent shivers down their spines. That when the children suddenly collapsed to the ground. The women screamed and wailed as they dashed to their children. The eerie glow had dissipated from their eyes just as the writing on their arms suddenly vanished as though nothing had been thee at all. As the mothers rocked their children back and forth, the fathers checked the children for life signs. Some checked for a faint breath from their mouths while other listened to their chest for a heartbeat.
"Dead..." one of the men said. Carrie hadn't seen who spoke first. Her face was buried in her hands. She tried to hold back the tears but had no choice but to relent to her feelings. As all five couples clutched the lifeless vestiges of their offspring, Carrie dropped to her knees. Her head was still in cradled in her hands as she said a prayer.
Wilhelm had stood motionless throughout the whole cycle of events. Stoic and silent he finally reacted to what was happening around him. He raised his hand and made a fist. He took a step closer to Carrie and brought his fist down hard upon the back of her head. Carrie rolled over on the floor and stopped laying face up looking at Wilhelm. Her face bore the confusion in her mind and her struggle to remain conscious. Then Carrie's vision turned black as Wilhelm's boot flew across her face.
When darkness came, and she felt herself surrendering to the grips of sleep, it was always the same for her. It was the same cycle of events. Not really a dream, but a cycle of events played out before her eyes. She always felt like she had been transported to some long distant past. Suddenly she was a baby again. No more worries and no more cares. Her parents could see to everything. Food, clothing, and shelter. Her parents were beautiful people. Both had pitch-black hair and eyes the same color as hers. Visions of their happiness together filled her field of vision. She relived every moment in the blink of an eye. For her that is what the memory feels like, a blink of an eye. A shadow of what was. As always the moments filled with happiness never seem long enough. Always after she blinks her joy away she finds herself in the castle. All around her she sees the familiar walls that held her captive for what seemed like an eternity. Loath though she is to admit it now, she was but a child then. Head strong and angry at the world for all that it had done to her. That is why she refused to turn back. Reinhardt and Henry had given her the chance to go back with the other children. She refused. She had to face...him, Dracula, the root of all the evil in this land. It seeps from his pores like a plague. In her mind she could see herself walking up that long stairway into the clouds. At the summit was his lair. Her hand reached out for the large double door entrance but it opened of its own accord. Inside all she could see was darkness. As always she hesitated entering, but then she felt a force pulling her in. Once again she was drawn back into the past. Still a baby, barely able to stand on her own two feet, she could see the flames. She could see into the flames. Two figures were screaming. Their pure black hair now turned to ash. Those familiar looking eyes now stared upwards. What did they search for? How she longed to be there with them, to feel with them, and to die with them. Then suddenly she saw the flames as well. All around her they danced. The flames were now so close she could almost touch them. She could feel the heat scorching her skin. That was when she heard the screams. So many voices were screaming at once.
Carrie's eyes popped open and instantly she recognized the voices. One was her own voice screaming painfully at the top of her lungs. The other fifty or so voices were those townsfolk proudly proclaiming, "Burn the witch! Burn the witch!" Carrie felt her hands tightly bound to the large wooden stake that she was fastened to. Through the ever-rising flames she managed to steal a glance at the enormous crowd gathered to see her burn. In a twisted way she felt flattered that so many people thought her death was worth watching. All these years she had barely made her presence known. Imagine how many would come if she had been in the public eye more often. However her immediate problem was how to get of this predicament. Unfortunately there were not many precedents for witches being burned at the stake having escaped or survived. Trying once more to free her hands from her bonds, she found herself looking upwards. Just like her parents, her real parents all those years ago. In the vaguest stages of consciousness, when she was a baby she managed to carve that image of her parents staring upwards into her mind. Always she wondered what they looked for. Now she knew. She found herself crying out to God from the deepest recesses of her mind.
"Lord, forgive me my trespasses, and forgive those who have trespassed upon me. I tried my best. I did all I could think of to save those children...forgive me."
One last gaze at the crowd and she found that she could see Wilhelm at the head of the mob. He too screamed with the rest, "Burn the witch!" But Carrie could see in his eyes the guilt he carried. There was emptiness in his actions now. She knew that it was his fault the children had died. He was foolish enough to read the writings on the children's arms thus giving power to whatever spells they had. The guilt and shame that he carried now were of the worst kind, the silent ones. She knew that long after she would turn to ashes, Wilhelm would never speak a word of what he did. The shame that he might have been wrong about a witch and that he had been the real villain was too great. She couldn't find it in her to hate Wilhelm or wish him wrong. The fate he has prepared for himself was quite enough. Once again she laid her head back against the stake. Now all she need do is await her end. Her eyes wandered all across the night sky. Finally her eyes settled upon a bright light. It seemed to out shine all the other stars in the night sky. As she looked at it she saw that it was moving. A better description would be falling.
At that very same instant Wilhelm followed Carrie's gaze. He too saw what was apparently a falling star. The bright light suddenly came crashing down upon the wooden stake like a thunderbolt. A wave of light began to move in all directions with Carrie as its epicenter. As the wave moved, it extinguished the flames that surrounded her and pushed escaping townsfolk to the ground. Carrie felt the bonds that had tied her to the stake crumble into dust. Unprepared for her sudden freedom of movement she collapsed into the pyre. She struggled as she crawled over the various bunches of hay and branches that had been stacked for her burning. When she reached ground she found herself at someone's foot. It was an old weather shoe. Her eyes slowly moved upwards following the shape of the figure that stood over her. Although much changed compared to what she was accustomed, it was recognizably the witch Actrise. In her hand was her customary golden staff. Carrie knew the staff well, especially at this moment as Actrise swung it across her face. Once more she felt herself rolling across the ground only to finish lying face up. Not even a moment had passed and Carrie had Actrise kneeling beside her, her face close to hers. So old and rotten had the witch become that Carrie felt that her breath had become nothing but dust.
"How does it feel to come within an inch of suffering the fate of so many before you? Does the fear still run through your veins?"
Carrie tried to force the old woman off of her but it was to no avail. However frail she may appear she still seemed to carry some spark of strength within her.
"My worthy opponent, my fearsome foe, my dear Carrie; have you figured it out? Does the answer still evade you?"
Carrie remained silent and continued her attempts to free herself. Actrise smiled proudly, all the time showing her yellow rotting teeth. Then as suddenly as the smile appeared it vanished. Her tone became equally solemn.
"We are a dying people, Carrie. Those of us powerful in the ways of magic are becoming fewer. Gone are the Gods of many. Now there is one God. We have no place. People do not believe. It's happened before, in the Northlands. They killed them all, or at least most of them." Actrise brought her face even closer and spoke in whispers. "I found one. I thought I could harness its power." A husky giggle emerged from her worn throat. "I was wrong!" The giggle then turned into laughter. "Do you know what he did to me?" At this point Actrise finally stood up and took several steps away from Carrie and extended her arms wide open. Her face was hysterical and one filled completely with lunacy. Carrie slowly stood up but was careful never to look away from Actrise.
"He swallowed my soul!" She screamed. As her bellow filled the night air, a beam of light punched through her chest. First it was just one, then two. Soon her body was being riddled with these beams of light until finally Actrise's form completely dissipated. Carrie shielded her eyes as the body of light stood where Actrise had made her last stand. It was when the light receded that Carrie dared to look. Standing before her was a man dressed in a mixture of armor and torn clothing and a cape. His most singular feature was that of his head. It was not the head any normal man. His head was that of a wolf. At first he let out a breath of relief then he began to speak. When he spoke he spoke in the voice of a man.
"Witches. So hard to digest."
"You ate her," Carrie could not help but ask. The wolf eyes in the man's head widened and looked at her for the first time. It seemed as though he had not been speaking to her. It was only now that he noticed her.
"Her soul. I ate her soul." He began to walk towards her. "Souls are gift from creation. They last forever and can never be destroyed. Therefore, they make the perfect sustenance. Do you understand?"
Carrie did not flinch as the man tried his best to walk ominously close to her. "What I understand is that no one, not even you, can go around feeding off the souls of others."
An animal's smile appeared on the wolf head. "Why?"
"For starters, I won't let you."
"But you already have. Your name is Carrie, isn't it?"
She remained silent. He began to circle around her. "The one I just ate, Actrise. She spoke of you, incessantly. I found it quite annoying. She wanted me to feed on you. What she did not know was that I do not follow orders. So I fed on her instead. However witches have such...complex souls. They take time to digest. I was still very hungry. She insisted that I should feed on you. I was afraid you would be the same so she offered an alternative. The children. Quick and easy for me and somehow poignant for you. That is what she wanted. She wanted to hurt you. It did not matter how. For instance, now, those villagers she just scared away with a little borrowed power from myself are at this very moment burning your little cottage to the ground."
Carrie fought her desire to lash out and strike the monster. The thought that her home was being destroyed while she stood here and talked with a man with a wolf for a head was desperation itself.
"I have been gone a long time." The man began to recount whimsically." His hairy lycanthropic features came closer to her face. "I have rested, but now I am hungry."
Carrie threw a glancing blow across his face. He stumbled backwards but steadied himself quickly. Instantly she summoned some energy to channel in his direction. She manifested a circle of emerald knives and sent them flying towards her opponent. He stood his ground as they approached with lightening speed.
"Stop," he said almost whispering. The magical knives stopped in mid air then one by one faded into nothingness. An evil grin washed across his face. "Do you think your magic is strong enough to defeat me? I who was once worshipped as a God! I Fenris!"
Carrie gestured with her hands to the stake that she had been tied to. The stake began to shake and slowly rise up from it entrenchment. To an on looker, Carrie would seem to be holding the large piece of wood with an invisible hand as it hovered above the two combatants. With another motion of her hand the stake went soaring across to her target. Fenris remained motionless, again only saying only a quiet word. "Fire," he said and the large stake erupted into flames and crashed a few feet away from him.
"Surely that is not all you have? Cheap parlor tricks! I could mumble the word 'die' and you would fall to the ground cold."
"Then why don't you? Why didn't kill those who imprisoned you?"
Fenris growled, angered by this remark. "I will tell you why," Carrie continued. "You and your contemporaries were not Gods and you were not all powerful. You were either killed or locked up by men who could not even spell the word magic let alone use it."
Feris howled and his eyes seemed to take on a crimson color. "Kneel," he said in a loud snarl. Carrie felt her legs collapse upon her own weight. "Break," he said as he menacingly walked towards her. Instantly Carrie felt a crack underneath the skin of her right arm. Fenris howled in conjunction her bellows of pain.
"Nectar for the ears. Scream; let me hear your pain."
Fenris grabbed hold of her broken arm and began to twist it. Tears began to roll down Carrie's cheeks as the pain scurrying through her body increased. Fenris brought his lycan mouth to her ear.
"Ready for a final word?"
It was then that a loud squawk was heard. Both Fenris and Carrie looked up to see a solitary eagle circling overhead. Carrie recognized the spectral features of her eagle familiar otherwise nicknamed Owl. Without even thinking she extended her able left arm to reach out for what Owl released from his talon feet. The briefest of moments passed before Carrie finally felt within her grasp the hilt of a heavy sword. Its blade glinted brightly in the eyes of Fenris whose horrid expressions knew exactly what it was.
"Die," Carrie said without a hint of the pain she was currently enduring. She moved swiftly as she thrust the sword through the center of his chest. Behind them suddenly opened one of Carrie's customary gateways. From within the gate emerged Yorick's ghostlike skull. He took his position over Carrie's shoulder and observed Fenris' motionless figure.
"It took me sometime to find the place. It is very cold."
Carrie leaned towards Fenris and grabbed the hilt of the sword with the hand of her good arm. "Die," she whispered in his ears just as she pushed Fenris into the gateway. A smile swept across Carrie's as she watched his static form slip into the portal and disappear into the vortex. Then the gateway closed and there was silence once more.
It took two hours for Carrie and her familiars to walk to her cottage. The pain from her arm slowed Carrie's pace. Then of course they had to avoid the angry townspeople. As though to confirm her worst fears, she saw the mob marching back to town with their torches still lit. The expression on their faces was mixed. Some seemed proud while others seemed ashamed. The saddest face of all seemed to be that of Wilhelm.
Carrie stared at her charred house. The damage was relatively superficial. The library would not have been affected thanks its magical nature. However her garden was completely destroyed. Yorick hovered behind Carrie as she walked through the scorched ruins. Carrie still held her broken arm in a makeshift sling. She had tried several healing spells but none were effective. What was broken by one magic could not be fixed by another.
"It can be rebuilt." He said sympathetically.
"Yes, of course," she replied quietly. Through a broken window cell Carrie stared out to the hill summit behind her home. The single cross tombstone silhouetted against the rising sun.
"If only everything was so easily fixed." A single tear rolled
down her cheek as the sting of pain entered her arm and her
heart.
Fin
Despite his insistence, Carrie refused to answer any of Yorick's questions or comments about what had transpired at Actrise's lair. She would not speak of it. Carrie began to work in silence. She took the fragment of stone tablet that she had found and cast a translation spell on it. The tablet began to hover of its own accord. Its foreign inscription began to glow bright green as a magical force began to try and transform the inscription into something remotely legible. Finally Carrie just turned and paid attention to Yorick. Her eyes stared into his empty eye sockets.
"Ready to talk now?" Yorick asked.
Carrie shook her head vaguely. "Not really. I don't have the time. I'm going into the town. Perhaps I can try something while I wait to for this tablet to be translated."
"Such as?"
Yorick watched as her face transformed into one of total desperation. "I don't know," she whispered.
In the interests of allaying the townspeople's fears, Carrie chose to travel by horse rather than by magical means. It took her and hour's ride to reach the edge of town. As she rode through its small streets she marveled at how much it had changed since she had been a small girl. In her day the area was only made up of a few loosely joined villages. Now it was a modestly large town. She had come into the town before but normally at night. In recent years she had been compelled to stay out of public view because of the commonly held belief that she was an evil witch. Even in this modern era the people of this land still clung hard to the ancient tradition of burning witches at the stake. The very thought of which sent a flood of old memories racing back into her mind. But that was behind her now. She shook her head as though trying to physically shove the memories back into whatever corner of her mind they had emerged from. Her immediate issue was finding out where Bess lived. An unfortunate side effect of her reclusion is that she would have no idea where the young lady lived.
As soon as the townspeople caught sight of her dark green cloak they knew who she was. Some stared in disbelief, others began to mumble curses under their breath, and some even dropped what they were holding and began to run in the opposite direction. How strange Carrie thought, to be so well known by a mass of people whom she had hardly ever had contact with. Finally she stopped her horse by one of those that stared in disbelief. It was a young man. Her proximity made him back away somewhat. Carrie smiled as politely as she could.
"I'm looking for a friend of mine. A young lady, her name is Bess. I don't know her last really, but would you know where she lives?"
The young man remained silent his head shaking a little. Carrie smiled again this time adding an emerald glow to her eyes. "A woman named Bess has a sick little girl. Where does she live?" Finally the young man accorded her a response in the form of a gesture. His hand went up in the general direction of a street to Carrie's left.
Carrie took her horse in the direction indicated by the young man and continued riding until she saw a small crowd outside a small residential building. Carrie tied her horse near the front and approached the crowd. As she came into view of the others who were in the crowd they slowly began to open a path for her to enter. The townsfolk literally jumped out of the way to avoid making contact with her. Eventually she made it to the front door where a middle-aged woman was standing almost on guard.
"I would like to see Bess," she asked softly.
The woman eyed her for a moment examining her head to before releasing a low sigh indicating for her to enter. Once she had stepped through the threshold, the woman called after her. "Second floor, first door to your left." Carrie followed her directions exactly and knocked on the appropriate door. Carrie did her best to hide her distaste when it was Wilhelm who opened the door.
"Have you brought any good news, witch?"
"Yes, they found your manners at the bottom of a well. Why don't be good fellow and jump down and fetch them."
Wilhelm was on the point of answering when Bess's voice was heard calling from within. "Let her through, please." Carrie smiled as Wilhelm opened the door wide enough for her to enter. Bess and her husband were living well enough Carrie thought. They were rooming in this board house, which offered them the most important comforts of home, roof, beds, and a room for the family to gather in. The middle-aged woman downstairs probably cooks meals for her renters.
Bess and her husband were in the child's room. They were standing vigil over her as they had probably been for many hours. She could see it in their weary eyes. Bess turned to Carrie as she entered the room. Her cheeks were still damp from the tears that had been rolling down them all day long.
"Do you bring good news?"
Carrie breathed heavily. "Nothing concrete. But I hope to have something soon. In the meantime I should like to try a few things. Will you permit me?"
Bess looked to her child. Her hand reached out and touched her little girl's face before she nodded solemnly. Bess rose up from the chair she had been seated in.
"The others are here."
"Others?" Carrie asked quizzically.
"Edward, Florence, Diana, and Anthony. They have all brought their
children. They are in the other rooms. I sent word to them. I knew
when they heard it was you that was helping they would want to be here
as well."
"Yes. It also makes the job of curing them much easier."
Bess's eyes brightened. "So there is hope?"
"There is always hope, Bess."
For the next several hours Carrie examined all the children. All them were in identical conditions as Bess's child. All of them had similar writing on their arms. Carrie instantly added the writings to the translation enchantment. With more examples of writing to draw from, she hoped the spell would give her the answer she needed all the more quickly. And so it was midday the day after that Carrie, laying back in a seat exhausted from trying more than a dozen different techniques, received a sudden jolt from a bolt of magical lightening. The thunderbolt came in through an open window startling all those present and headed directly towards Carrie. Carrie jumped from her seat and stared at her ring. Everyone in the room followed her gaze. Slowly from the ring emerged the familiar green mist. The skull familiar emerged from the ring quicker than usual.
"I have the answer you are seeking." Yorick pronounced proudly. Bess and company looked at the floating skull with attention and amazement all at once. Not wasting anytime he reported with a most urgent tone. "Your spells have not been able to counter the magic that has been imposed upon these children because it is of a different species of magic."
It was one of Carrie's childhood friends, Anthony, who asked the question. "A different species?"
Carrie picked up the explanation. "I've read on the topic, what little there is. Its similar to the theory of Charles Darwin." Carrie looked around the room and found only blank stares. She realized at that moment that the writings of Charles Darwin were not likely to have made it this far east or into a mostly agricultural community for that matter. "The essential part of Darwin's theory that concerns us is that he postulated that species all over the planet strive for survival in different ways according to their environment. Better-said, different species adapt differently to their environment. Now what does this have to do with magic? Simple. In the same way that species "evolved" or "adapted" differently around the world, so did magic. The reason the children cannot respond to my spells is because the magic that is holding them does not speak my language. It works differently."
"But what does this mean for the children?" Bess insisted.
"It means that I will need to find magic of the same kind that has caught hold of them to be able to release them."
"And where will you find that?" It was Wilhelm who spoke now.
Carrie cast him a cursory glance. She then looked to Yorick who nodded in turn. "It has been determined that this script is Scandinavian in origin." A sudden wave of whispers and murmurs filled the room. Yorick floated a little higher so that all could see him. "Norway, surely you have heard of Norway!" Carrie began to shake her head. There was no time for a geography lesson.
"I want all the children brought into this room. Lay them side by side with the writing on their arms facing upwards where I can see them!" Carrie ordered aloud. Instantly everyone in the room began to move. Carrie meanwhile continued to converse with Yorick.
"There is something you need to be aware of, Carrie." Yorick spoke to her in a more restrained tone. "Like so many of the mages of old, writing did not exist. Enchantments were handed down through a form of oral tradition. Writing did not enter into the culture of Norwegian mages until quite at the end of their era."
"The end of their era? You mean they don't exist anymore?"
"These Norwegian people are very strong folk. Although the majority of the people continued to believe in Odin, Thor, and others as Gods, they were in fact not even mages. They were warriors who killed all of the wizards and sorcerers. Overtime the tales of these warriors who were able to kill the mages were so great that they became known as Gods themselves."
"For the true identity of these warriors to have been lost to the passage of time must mean that whatever forces are at work here are truly ancient." Carrie said in amazement.
"Exactly. And the dangerous part is that Norwegian magic is based totally on oral incantations. At their height, one of their wizards need only mumble a phrase and he could bring a mountain down upon you."
Carrie stood silent as she pondered on the implications of Yorick's words. All the while, the parents of the different children brought their young ones and laid them side by side as instructed. The parents took bed sheets and placed them underneath the children to cushion them against the hard wood floor. Wilhelm had spent most of his time in the background just observing. The parents really didn't need his help moving the children. It wasn't really his sort of work anyway. He was just here to keep watch on the witch. He didn't trust her or her kind. It was their kind that put a curse on his father's land once many years ago. For years nothing would grow in his fields. Finally one day he had to sell the plot for just a small bag of coins. But that was not the worst of it. After he sold it, the new owner hired him as an indentured servant. His father became a slave to a plot of land that wouldn't grow. Finally when he could bear no more, and the landowner was screaming for his money, his father took his own life. All because of a witches curse. For that reason, Wilhelm has never seen a witch a anything good for anyone, and he doesn't think he ever will. He circled the children eying very closely the writing on their harms. "Damn witchery," he mumbled so that no one but he could hear. The script didn't even look like writing. It seemed just like a series of interesting lines. He stared at them intently trying to see if he could somehow understand what they said. Wilhelm came to stop circling the children at their feet. He stood dead center at a point where he could the writings plainly. Probably what the witch wanted to do. Stand where he was now and look at the writing all-together. It was then that he noticed it. The lines no longer seemed like random intersecting ones. They seemed familiar all of the sudden. At first he thought his eyes were tricking him. Then he read the first arm.
"The souls of sacrifice..."
In an almost trance like state he continued to read the writings on the arms of the children one by one. "...belong to he who ate...the arm of great warriors...of Hemidal's rank...Fenris.
Instantly the children rose up from their improvised beds and stared emptily in Wilhelm's direction. Everyone in the room reacted with surprise at the sudden activity from the children. Carrie strode to Wilhelm's side to get a view of what was happening. She grabbed Wilhelm by the arm and pulled on it harshly.
"What did you do?"
Wilhelm just shook his head intensely. "Nothing. I did nothing! Its your damn witchery that is at work here."
Carrie was about to respond when suddenly the children spoke. All eyes were on the children suddenly as they began to speak in a tongue totally foreign to them all. Even Carrie was at a loss to understand their words. All the while they spoke the children's eyes glowed with an ominous hue. They spoke in chorus a long phrase and then went silent. Parents clutched one another in apprehension. The sudden silence was sent shivers down their spines. That when the children suddenly collapsed to the ground. The women screamed and wailed as they dashed to their children. The eerie glow had dissipated from their eyes just as the writing on their arms suddenly vanished as though nothing had been thee at all. As the mothers rocked their children back and forth, the fathers checked the children for life signs. Some checked for a faint breath from their mouths while other listened to their chest for a heartbeat.
"Dead..." one of the men said. Carrie hadn't seen who spoke first. Her face was buried in her hands. She tried to hold back the tears but had no choice but to relent to her feelings. As all five couples clutched the lifeless vestiges of their offspring, Carrie dropped to her knees. Her head was still in cradled in her hands as she said a prayer.
Wilhelm had stood motionless throughout the whole cycle of events. Stoic and silent he finally reacted to what was happening around him. He raised his hand and made a fist. He took a step closer to Carrie and brought his fist down hard upon the back of her head. Carrie rolled over on the floor and stopped laying face up looking at Wilhelm. Her face bore the confusion in her mind and her struggle to remain conscious. Then Carrie's vision turned black as Wilhelm's boot flew across her face.
When darkness came, and she felt herself surrendering to the grips of sleep, it was always the same for her. It was the same cycle of events. Not really a dream, but a cycle of events played out before her eyes. She always felt like she had been transported to some long distant past. Suddenly she was a baby again. No more worries and no more cares. Her parents could see to everything. Food, clothing, and shelter. Her parents were beautiful people. Both had pitch-black hair and eyes the same color as hers. Visions of their happiness together filled her field of vision. She relived every moment in the blink of an eye. For her that is what the memory feels like, a blink of an eye. A shadow of what was. As always the moments filled with happiness never seem long enough. Always after she blinks her joy away she finds herself in the castle. All around her she sees the familiar walls that held her captive for what seemed like an eternity. Loath though she is to admit it now, she was but a child then. Head strong and angry at the world for all that it had done to her. That is why she refused to turn back. Reinhardt and Henry had given her the chance to go back with the other children. She refused. She had to face...him, Dracula, the root of all the evil in this land. It seeps from his pores like a plague. In her mind she could see herself walking up that long stairway into the clouds. At the summit was his lair. Her hand reached out for the large double door entrance but it opened of its own accord. Inside all she could see was darkness. As always she hesitated entering, but then she felt a force pulling her in. Once again she was drawn back into the past. Still a baby, barely able to stand on her own two feet, she could see the flames. She could see into the flames. Two figures were screaming. Their pure black hair now turned to ash. Those familiar looking eyes now stared upwards. What did they search for? How she longed to be there with them, to feel with them, and to die with them. Then suddenly she saw the flames as well. All around her they danced. The flames were now so close she could almost touch them. She could feel the heat scorching her skin. That was when she heard the screams. So many voices were screaming at once.
Carrie's eyes popped open and instantly she recognized the voices. One was her own voice screaming painfully at the top of her lungs. The other fifty or so voices were those townsfolk proudly proclaiming, "Burn the witch! Burn the witch!" Carrie felt her hands tightly bound to the large wooden stake that she was fastened to. Through the ever-rising flames she managed to steal a glance at the enormous crowd gathered to see her burn. In a twisted way she felt flattered that so many people thought her death was worth watching. All these years she had barely made her presence known. Imagine how many would come if she had been in the public eye more often. However her immediate problem was how to get of this predicament. Unfortunately there were not many precedents for witches being burned at the stake having escaped or survived. Trying once more to free her hands from her bonds, she found herself looking upwards. Just like her parents, her real parents all those years ago. In the vaguest stages of consciousness, when she was a baby she managed to carve that image of her parents staring upwards into her mind. Always she wondered what they looked for. Now she knew. She found herself crying out to God from the deepest recesses of her mind.
"Lord, forgive me my trespasses, and forgive those who have trespassed upon me. I tried my best. I did all I could think of to save those children...forgive me."
One last gaze at the crowd and she found that she could see Wilhelm at the head of the mob. He too screamed with the rest, "Burn the witch!" But Carrie could see in his eyes the guilt he carried. There was emptiness in his actions now. She knew that it was his fault the children had died. He was foolish enough to read the writings on the children's arms thus giving power to whatever spells they had. The guilt and shame that he carried now were of the worst kind, the silent ones. She knew that long after she would turn to ashes, Wilhelm would never speak a word of what he did. The shame that he might have been wrong about a witch and that he had been the real villain was too great. She couldn't find it in her to hate Wilhelm or wish him wrong. The fate he has prepared for himself was quite enough. Once again she laid her head back against the stake. Now all she need do is await her end. Her eyes wandered all across the night sky. Finally her eyes settled upon a bright light. It seemed to out shine all the other stars in the night sky. As she looked at it she saw that it was moving. A better description would be falling.
At that very same instant Wilhelm followed Carrie's gaze. He too saw what was apparently a falling star. The bright light suddenly came crashing down upon the wooden stake like a thunderbolt. A wave of light began to move in all directions with Carrie as its epicenter. As the wave moved, it extinguished the flames that surrounded her and pushed escaping townsfolk to the ground. Carrie felt the bonds that had tied her to the stake crumble into dust. Unprepared for her sudden freedom of movement she collapsed into the pyre. She struggled as she crawled over the various bunches of hay and branches that had been stacked for her burning. When she reached ground she found herself at someone's foot. It was an old weather shoe. Her eyes slowly moved upwards following the shape of the figure that stood over her. Although much changed compared to what she was accustomed, it was recognizably the witch Actrise. In her hand was her customary golden staff. Carrie knew the staff well, especially at this moment as Actrise swung it across her face. Once more she felt herself rolling across the ground only to finish lying face up. Not even a moment had passed and Carrie had Actrise kneeling beside her, her face close to hers. So old and rotten had the witch become that Carrie felt that her breath had become nothing but dust.
"How does it feel to come within an inch of suffering the fate of so many before you? Does the fear still run through your veins?"
Carrie tried to force the old woman off of her but it was to no avail. However frail she may appear she still seemed to carry some spark of strength within her.
"My worthy opponent, my fearsome foe, my dear Carrie; have you figured it out? Does the answer still evade you?"
Carrie remained silent and continued her attempts to free herself. Actrise smiled proudly, all the time showing her yellow rotting teeth. Then as suddenly as the smile appeared it vanished. Her tone became equally solemn.
"We are a dying people, Carrie. Those of us powerful in the ways of magic are becoming fewer. Gone are the Gods of many. Now there is one God. We have no place. People do not believe. It's happened before, in the Northlands. They killed them all, or at least most of them." Actrise brought her face even closer and spoke in whispers. "I found one. I thought I could harness its power." A husky giggle emerged from her worn throat. "I was wrong!" The giggle then turned into laughter. "Do you know what he did to me?" At this point Actrise finally stood up and took several steps away from Carrie and extended her arms wide open. Her face was hysterical and one filled completely with lunacy. Carrie slowly stood up but was careful never to look away from Actrise.
"He swallowed my soul!" She screamed. As her bellow filled the night air, a beam of light punched through her chest. First it was just one, then two. Soon her body was being riddled with these beams of light until finally Actrise's form completely dissipated. Carrie shielded her eyes as the body of light stood where Actrise had made her last stand. It was when the light receded that Carrie dared to look. Standing before her was a man dressed in a mixture of armor and torn clothing and a cape. His most singular feature was that of his head. It was not the head any normal man. His head was that of a wolf. At first he let out a breath of relief then he began to speak. When he spoke he spoke in the voice of a man.
"Witches. So hard to digest."
"You ate her," Carrie could not help but ask. The wolf eyes in the man's head widened and looked at her for the first time. It seemed as though he had not been speaking to her. It was only now that he noticed her.
"Her soul. I ate her soul." He began to walk towards her. "Souls are gift from creation. They last forever and can never be destroyed. Therefore, they make the perfect sustenance. Do you understand?"
Carrie did not flinch as the man tried his best to walk ominously close to her. "What I understand is that no one, not even you, can go around feeding off the souls of others."
An animal's smile appeared on the wolf head. "Why?"
"For starters, I won't let you."
"But you already have. Your name is Carrie, isn't it?"
She remained silent. He began to circle around her. "The one I just ate, Actrise. She spoke of you, incessantly. I found it quite annoying. She wanted me to feed on you. What she did not know was that I do not follow orders. So I fed on her instead. However witches have such...complex souls. They take time to digest. I was still very hungry. She insisted that I should feed on you. I was afraid you would be the same so she offered an alternative. The children. Quick and easy for me and somehow poignant for you. That is what she wanted. She wanted to hurt you. It did not matter how. For instance, now, those villagers she just scared away with a little borrowed power from myself are at this very moment burning your little cottage to the ground."
Carrie fought her desire to lash out and strike the monster. The thought that her home was being destroyed while she stood here and talked with a man with a wolf for a head was desperation itself.
"I have been gone a long time." The man began to recount whimsically." His hairy lycanthropic features came closer to her face. "I have rested, but now I am hungry."
Carrie threw a glancing blow across his face. He stumbled backwards but steadied himself quickly. Instantly she summoned some energy to channel in his direction. She manifested a circle of emerald knives and sent them flying towards her opponent. He stood his ground as they approached with lightening speed.
"Stop," he said almost whispering. The magical knives stopped in mid air then one by one faded into nothingness. An evil grin washed across his face. "Do you think your magic is strong enough to defeat me? I who was once worshipped as a God! I Fenris!"
Carrie gestured with her hands to the stake that she had been tied to. The stake began to shake and slowly rise up from it entrenchment. To an on looker, Carrie would seem to be holding the large piece of wood with an invisible hand as it hovered above the two combatants. With another motion of her hand the stake went soaring across to her target. Fenris remained motionless, again only saying only a quiet word. "Fire," he said and the large stake erupted into flames and crashed a few feet away from him.
"Surely that is not all you have? Cheap parlor tricks! I could mumble the word 'die' and you would fall to the ground cold."
"Then why don't you? Why didn't kill those who imprisoned you?"
Fenris growled, angered by this remark. "I will tell you why," Carrie continued. "You and your contemporaries were not Gods and you were not all powerful. You were either killed or locked up by men who could not even spell the word magic let alone use it."
Feris howled and his eyes seemed to take on a crimson color. "Kneel," he said in a loud snarl. Carrie felt her legs collapse upon her own weight. "Break," he said as he menacingly walked towards her. Instantly Carrie felt a crack underneath the skin of her right arm. Fenris howled in conjunction her bellows of pain.
"Nectar for the ears. Scream; let me hear your pain."
Fenris grabbed hold of her broken arm and began to twist it. Tears began to roll down Carrie's cheeks as the pain scurrying through her body increased. Fenris brought his lycan mouth to her ear.
"Ready for a final word?"
It was then that a loud squawk was heard. Both Fenris and Carrie looked up to see a solitary eagle circling overhead. Carrie recognized the spectral features of her eagle familiar otherwise nicknamed Owl. Without even thinking she extended her able left arm to reach out for what Owl released from his talon feet. The briefest of moments passed before Carrie finally felt within her grasp the hilt of a heavy sword. Its blade glinted brightly in the eyes of Fenris whose horrid expressions knew exactly what it was.
"Die," Carrie said without a hint of the pain she was currently enduring. She moved swiftly as she thrust the sword through the center of his chest. Behind them suddenly opened one of Carrie's customary gateways. From within the gate emerged Yorick's ghostlike skull. He took his position over Carrie's shoulder and observed Fenris' motionless figure.
"It took me sometime to find the place. It is very cold."
Carrie leaned towards Fenris and grabbed the hilt of the sword with the hand of her good arm. "Die," she whispered in his ears just as she pushed Fenris into the gateway. A smile swept across Carrie's as she watched his static form slip into the portal and disappear into the vortex. Then the gateway closed and there was silence once more.
It took two hours for Carrie and her familiars to walk to her cottage. The pain from her arm slowed Carrie's pace. Then of course they had to avoid the angry townspeople. As though to confirm her worst fears, she saw the mob marching back to town with their torches still lit. The expression on their faces was mixed. Some seemed proud while others seemed ashamed. The saddest face of all seemed to be that of Wilhelm.
Carrie stared at her charred house. The damage was relatively superficial. The library would not have been affected thanks its magical nature. However her garden was completely destroyed. Yorick hovered behind Carrie as she walked through the scorched ruins. Carrie still held her broken arm in a makeshift sling. She had tried several healing spells but none were effective. What was broken by one magic could not be fixed by another.
"It can be rebuilt." He said sympathetically.
"Yes, of course," she replied quietly. Through a broken window cell Carrie stared out to the hill summit behind her home. The single cross tombstone silhouetted against the rising sun.
"If only everything was so easily fixed." A single tear rolled
down her cheek as the sting of pain entered her arm and her
heart.
Fin