Chapter 2
Sheldor shook out of his male-induced coma, shoved his arbalest into its holder on his side, and stepped forward, "Madam, I can assure you that I am not the crazy one in the situation. I have been thoroughly tested by countless men. And, in all fairness, you did try to kill us. I had no other choice but to defend against your attacks."
Sheldor was quite irritated by the fact that the woman had not heard a word he just said since her attentions were on the arrow lodged into her buttocks. She was swearing under her breath as she dared to touch it a few times. He approached with his normally fast paced canter, but froze on a dime as she gripped a handful of her blossom stars, "You take one more step…"
Sheldor sighed, "Madam. If I may… I only wish to help with the retrieval of the arrow."
The woman's green eyes made his breath hitch again. She heaved a sigh, "Penelope."
That made his brows touch in confusion. She smiled at his face and his heart nearly burst in his chest as she spoke again, "That's my name. Penelope."
Sheldor cleared his throat as she put away her blossoms, "Why would you divulge your name to the enemy you were just attacking? That makes no sense." He approached her, avoiding his gaze into her eyes lest he go breathless again, this woman was unreadable. He couldn't quite grasp a hold of her and it was driving him quite mad. He forgot that Wolowix could hear his inner thoughts and the damn trinket spoke up in his head, "But I thought the GREAT SHELDOR hated 'not knowing something'. Careful there, Shelly Welly… I think your primitive male is showing."
She watched him with amusement as he circled her like a vulture. She didn't know he was having a useless shouting match with a wrist watch in his head. Sheldor cleared his throat as if to some unknown force and she spoke, "Hey there… you ok?" He narrowed his eyes at her and she smiled and spoke a-matter-of-factly, "What sense is there to be made in a world swallowed by chaos, anyway? I just wanted you to stop calling me 'Madam', is all."
He finally stopped circling her and pursed he lips as he stared at the arrow, "I am Sir Sheldor of Galstire. I am a witch hunter."
He paused as she snorted, "Holy crap on a cracker… YOU'RE a witch hunter?" She gave a little laugh that didn't seem necessary.
He looked at her face with a stern look, obviously missing her laughter's point in trying to belittle him, and spoke, "I'm not sure what part of my sentence was confusing you… I have no reason to lie, nor can I. I AM a witch hunter. Just as you're one of the witch's slaves."
He missed the woman's shocked expression at knowing what she was as his memory flooded with knowledge of how to extract the arrow without having this woman punch him in the throat. He remembered an older man that was a Captain of squad of men who only wore chainmail. Wolowix went on about calling him Captain Chainmail. The man's advice about retrieving an arrow from a wounded soldier was called 'Misdirection'. Sheldor nodded and stepped forward towards the blonde, "Miss Penelope, though this is a magical arrow, it still must be dislodged from your supple cheek before it can dissipate. An odd man I met in a very lowly town taught me that is best to distract the victim with an arrow injury before pulling so called weapon from the wound." Sheldor stood before Penelope and met her eye to eye as he spoke very low and barely an inch away from her face then he whispered, "He told me that a man would be considered fortunate to have a woman be the arrow's victim. That way…" He ghosted his hand over the shaft of the arrow and leaned closer to the woman's shocked and desirable face, "… a man could never feel guilty for doing being so close to such beauty." His lips ghosted upon hers and he yanked the arrow right out of her buttock. The woman yelped as Sheldor pulled away from her with a grin on his face as the arrow erupted in a burst of yellow.
Wolowix hummed in his head, "Oh man… you are so dead." Sheldor's brows furrowed at the trinkets song, but he was momentarily distracted as Penelope slapped him across his cheek that made HIM yelp just as she had. The nerk rumbled in a wolfy laugh as Sheldor scowled at him while rubbing his cheek.
She stomped to her broken weapon while growling under her breath, "Jerk." She turned around with the fish bone blade in one hand and her severed shaft in the other with a frown on her face.
Sheldor snapped his jacket down to unwrinkle it as he watched the woman, "Why would the witch send someone incompetent as yourself?"
She didn't hear his comment as she sat on the ground, Indian style, with her tongue sticking out as she tried to piece her weapon together. Sheldor growled at having been ignored and stepped closer. He was about to speak again, but the woman's voice intervened with, "DAMN! Hey… you know magic right… how'bout helping me out and fixing ol' Slugger here."
Wolowix moaned, "Oh Lord… she named her weapon… she's just as nutso as you are."
Sheldor pointed to the woman and opened his mouth before Onar stepped forward sniffing the air, "Sheldor, we have a problem. I smell blood… and Ogres… lots of them… coming from the east."
Without a single hesitation, Sheldor scooped his Stetson off a hanging branch and jumped on a rock and onto the back of Onar, who took off towards the east.
Penelope stood and the wind seemed to flow in the direction they ran. The fire blew and dwindled out leaving the woman staring after them… She smiled with her eyes glowing an eerie green and she spoke to the wind, "My Lady… he has taken the bait." Her weapon hissed and bubbled as it melded together and she rested it on her shoulder.
A mist hovering over a book with tattered pages whose cover was scarred and burned and rotted from time. Its pages wave as if underwater as it glowed ominously. A voice monotone and ruthless spoke, "Rakooth… show me the witch hunter."
An Indian voice hummed from the book as the mist moved as the voice spoke, "Yes my lady."
The mist morphed and made an image of Sheldor on the back of Onar rushing through the woods. A figure, who moved from the shadows towards the displayed image, tapped her tanned boots against the hardwood floor. Her dead eyes burned blue behind a masquerade mask made of human bone that covered every bit of her face besides the eyes. The mask had three sets of horns that waved from the top of the mask; they got longer the closer it got to the middle, the pair of horns in the center curled above into a shape of a heart. The mask was made of demon bone and held unbelievable and unpredictable power. Her long, straight, deep brunette hair flowed around the mask and dripped upon her shoulders. She wore a crimson and black Victorian dress that flowed to her ankles, and around her neck she wore a small raven's skull with two wolf canine teeth on either side of the skull attached to a tattered string of leather.
She reached her black gloved hands and slammed the book, Rakooth, shut. Her blue eyes pulsed in color as she stroked the book's spine. She spun around and a green flame filled the witch's gloved hand and a live, beating heart manifested within her grip. Her masked head tilted and the witch's voice spoke towards the throbbing muscle, "Well done, my Bestie… See to it that he makes it out alive. I have taken far too much of my time plotting my mother's revenge against this low life just to have him going and dying on us…"
Penelope's eyes burned green and began to smoke. She gave an emotionless smile just as Lady Fowler's voice filled the crisp air around her, "Stay by his side… no matter what. Now… GO!"
Penelope swung the long glaive around her back then stopped it with a swift grip then she lurched forward in a powerful gait and a dust of sand and dead leaves erupted from the ground. She was a blur of black and green through the deaden woods. With one little hop, she launched into the air and kept moving forward; hopping from tree to tree like she was jumping from rock to rock on a skinny creek. Almost to the end of the wood line, she stopped on one branch then her body sprung up high above the river of leafless veins of thorns and branches. She was clearly 20 feet above the tallest trees and almost hovered in mid air. She slowly descended, but got a clear view of the ogre infested town ahead. Fires raged so bright that it mimicked the illumination of a sunrise within the darkness of the night.
She perched on top of the tallest tree and watched the horned, human giants rip through the cabins and snatching up humans and eating them like pieces of bread. If the young farm girl would've still possessed her heart, this site would have sickened her, but instead, she just watched the carnage with dead eyes and just searched for the movement of Sir Sheldon and his black nerkanine.
The wind was chilled by the rush of speed and the coming of winter, Sheldor really disliked his eyes watering as they were, it stung and blurred his site to the passing scenery. It was like looking through a rain drenched window, he couldn't see anything coming and that was not good in his line of work. The smell of burning wood and fresh blood filling the air and he physically gagged.
Wolowix scoffed, "Eventually you're gonna have to learn to NOT almost pass out like a little girl at the thought of blood."
Sheldor spoke in the air, "Well, when you learn how to NOT be a grown man's bracelet then you will never have to worry about my flaws."
Onar tilted his head to look back at them for a brief moment and he slowed his sprint into a rushed trot, "This is not the time to be bickering like two old men. Ogres are mindless eating machines, but they're still very dangerous. We all need to keep our wits about us."
Sheldor slid off Onar's back and the two of them stand in the orange glow of the town aflame. Sheldor kept staring forward as he spoke, "Ogres do not know how to make fire."
Onar growled deeply, "This fire isn't rampant… It's… controlled."
Wolowix and Onar spoke in Sheldor's mind at the same time, "MAGIC."
Sheldor shook his head, "Gentlemen... please refrain from speaking at the same time... you make my brain vibrate." He cleared his throat and narrowed his eyes. It wasn't just magic… it was being manipulated. There was a flash from one of the fires and Sheldor saw a silhouette of a person then it phased away. He groaned and reached down and grabbed his arbalest, he despised alchemists… and these fires were made by one. The arbalest popped into proper attack mode and he looked over to his nerk friend, "Get as many survivors as you can to safety. I'll take care of the ogres." Onar nodded and raced off.
Sheldor moved to where he could see the double number of ogres thundering after running humans, he saw Onar bulleting in and scooping up the chased innocents. Sheldor's arbalest filled with a gold energy and formed into a single arrow, aiming it at an ogre with a little girl in its huge grasp, lifting the poor girl's body to its mouth. The arrow shot out in a ripple of a yellow surge and left a trail like a comet's tail. The arrow pierced the monster's eye, stopping its movements all together as the arrow burst into a shard of gold and seeped into the wound, causing the ogre to spasm and drop the little girl. Onar swept in and got the girl to safety just as the ogre illuminated all yellow before bursting into cosmic dander. Sheldor shot at many more until there were five ogres left in the village.
The five left finally realized that something was wrong when they couldn't find any more humans to eat… except one. The Neanderthals were very stupid, but in a group they were dangerous. Ogres looked like 30 foot tall humans with a mean under bite with their lower canines growing like tusks. Their bones of their brow ridges grew spiny rifts that were nearly unbreakable. But it was the three knots on top of their heads that truly made them unique; the three knots were in fact parts of their skulls. It was the best way to tell the age of the ogres, if the three bones penetrated the skin, they well into their twenties. The bigger the horns on their heads… the more dangerous they were. Neither of these ogres had a grand enough crown to be considered the leader, so Sheldor needed to find him. They WERE very ignorant, but if their leader had a ruthless temper and a ravenous hunger… the ogre klan was something to fear.
Speaking to these creatures was a headache in itself, but Sheldor needed this to end. He spoke condescendingly as he said each word slowly and sharply, "Where. Is. Your. Lead. Er?"
The five ogres grunted and stared at their meal with drool falling from the huge under-bitten tusks. Sheldor's eyes rolled up in his head for a second as he shuddered and muttered, 'Oh Good Lord' under his breath. He tried again with a much louder voice, "Who. Is. Boss?"
None of them answered, but one charged at him and Sheldor rolled his eyes and lifted his arbalest and turned the creature into a puff of glowing pollen. This seemed to have gotten the attention of something as the ground started to quake under his feet. The last four ogres roared and left a wisp of smoke in the air as Sheldor could see a gigantic ogre trampling towards them dragging a monstrous cudgel behind him. This ogre stood almost six foot higher than any of the rest and the top of his head was fully spiked, this was the leader. The lug ripped from in between two of the ogres and sent them flailing to the side. Sheldor readied his weapon just as the ogre shouldered his huge cudgel, making Sheldor wince at the weapon. It was a thick club with bands of nails rusted from brain matter and flesh, all the way down the wooden weapon were spikes of sharpened bone jutting out randomly. They, also, were covered in blood.
The mongrel's voice boomed in the silence, "I. KURT! I. LEADER!" He banged his chest with his free hand and roared with a haze of smoke in the air.
Sheldor flinched as the other ogres filled the air with their loud bellowing and Wolowix hummed in his head, "What the FRAK are you doing? The people are safe… let's get the hell outta here! Seriously! That… thing… probably won't even notice you're gone."
Sheldor hissed for his silence, "Him and his klan have tasted human flesh… they must be annihilated before they yearn for it again. Muscle and size do not ensure a victory on the battlefield. It is the man with the strategy… and, I, Wolowix, am a man of strategy."
Wolowix's voice hit a new high, "I'm sorry… did you just say Muscle and Size don't matter? Are we even looking at the same creature right now? LOOK AT HIM! He can literally lose us in the back pocket of his LOINCLOTH!"
Sheldor had enough, both from his ill tempered wrist watch and the grumbling of the bad tempered ogre. He raised his arbalest and shot an arrow into the smoothed chest of the snarling ogre. Sheldor's brows shot right up as the arrow shattered… nothing happened. He could hear Wolowix start uttering some Hebrew prayer gibberish. These creatures were stupid… but the person who sent them wasn't. Whoever they were knew how to magic proof the lead moron. In anger, Sheldor shot the remaining four ogres and evaporated them into dandelion seeds into the wind, he didn't need five charging ogres coming at him, and so he turned it into just one.
Kurt bellowed loudly with his cudgel held high and menacingly above his head in the flame tinted night sky. He lunged and swung the cudgel down hard and fast, Sheldor rolled to the side and barely avoided the debris from the smash. Kurt's shoulder-muscle tensed and he yanked his cudgel out of the ground. Sheldor got to his feet and shot a few more arrows towards him and they bounced of him like a handful of glitter. Kurt raised the cudgel high in the air again and stomped forward, before he could swing his weapon down, Onar bolted into the sky and wrapped around Kurt's forearm and latched his fangs and claws into the tender flesh. The ogre screamed and the cudgel fell to the ground heavily.
Kurt swung his arm to rid himself of the pain. He slung the nerk against the decaying walls of the cabins, but still couldn't shake him off. Sheldor tried to shoot the ogre again and again, but his arrows fizzled before they even got to him. He watched in horror and as the ogre finally slammed the nerk into the thick, unforgiving trees and Onar finally was forced to release his grip. Sheldor went to run to his side, but the nerk growled for him to stay back. It was good advice as Kurt took his hamfist and grabbed the nerk in a choking grip. Anger was written all over the ogre's face and Sheldor started to pick up rocks and throw them at the ogre while yelling. Wolowix's voice came into his mind very whiny and worried, "Is this what the great Sheldor is reduced to… throwing rocks and tantrums… DO SOMETHING! He's gonna EAT HIM!"
Sheldor muttered, "Magic doesn't work… there is… there is NOTHING I CAN DO!" He felt a desperation as Onar was lifted to the ogre's mouth. Then… everything stopped. The wind… the sounds… even the cold stopped, energy was building and it was strong. Even the ogre had to pause at its enormity. Sheldor saw the fear in the eyes of the ogre and in Onar's, they were staring at something above. He turned and looked up at the tallest tree, where an aura like a super nova pulsed in the darkness of the night sky… green like an emerald. In the middle of this aura was a black figure… Sheldor recognized it immediately and he whispered her name, "Penelope…"
The figure burst from her perch and the speed was almost incalculable. She raised her glaive and drove the fish blade horizontally into the face of Kurt, riding the momentum of the collision as it sent a physical ripple of power that surged throughout the ogre's entire body. He released Onar and the nerk rolled onto the ground as the ogre tilted and fell to the ground. Penelope looked as if she were claiming land as she rode the shock wave of the fall. One hand stayed on the glaive as the aura pulsed in a menacing manner.
Onar got up and slowly made his way to Sheldor's side as he turned and watched the woman with very dark eyes. Sheldor didn't like this, this woman was much more powerful than he imagined. But… it wasn't coming from her… it was coming from her weapon. He stared as the ogre's body began to gel and glow an unnatural green; the flesh, the bone, and the soul of the ogre were now nothing but an eerie green glowing blob that began to seep into the glaive. He narrowed his eyes as the glaive grew, not a significant amount, but enough to worry the witch hunter... but the fact that the magically induced fire that had engulfed the town dissipated… DID.
When the ogre's essence was fully absorbed, the glaive was lifted and the horrid aura disappeared. Penelope turned and the glow she had in her eyes dulled into her normal gaze and she smiled. She shouldered her glaive and almost skipped towards him, but Onar moved in between them and snarled, she stopped and looked at the nerk with shock, "Is that how you thank someone for saving your lives… no wonder you guys are alone."
Sheldor narrowed his eyes and Onar blared his telepathy towards everyone in the vicinity, "You work for Lady Fowler and you possess a Soul Eater… you're more of a monster than HE was!"
Sheldor eyeballed the glaive and it seemed to be almost alive… "It healed itself… Sheldor… this woman is damn near as dangerous as the witch herself," Wolowix whimpered in his head. Sheldor shook his head and whispered, "No… she's much more dangerous than the witch… she has nothing to lose." He swallowed and moved stand in front of Onar and stared at Penelope. She seemed hurt by the growling, but at the same time… she seemed aloof and emotionless. He shook his head, "Why have you saved us from an attack that was obviously staged by one of your own?"
She looked at him with a truthful confusion and she backed up a little, she looked like a regular female woman, but he could not allow his guard to drop, "This fire was created by a chemical means… an alchemist most likely. That ogre was completely susceptible to magic. I know you have the attention span of a fairy gnat, but you aren't stupid. The person who did all this forgot that the witch wants me and my friends alive… so you had to clean up their mess. Beautiful AND menacing… no wonder the witch choose you."
Penelope made no emotional facial expression… she stuck her glaive to the ground and gripped the shaft as she had a gaze battle with the witch hunter. She sighed, "So… where does this leave us?" She said with a smile before continuing, "You know who I am and you know what I'm capable of… does that mean you're afraid of me? Is the great Sheldor of Galstire afraid of a little girl from Omashire?"
Sheldor narrowed his eyes; she was a farm girl… He rolled his eyes and moved to Onar's side and hopped onto the nerk's back. He and Onar turned and left the woman shaking her head with a smirk. He headed towards the survivors and wondered what Lady Fowler's plan was for sending a very pretty farm woman.