Chapter 10

Bawe had fire whipping out towards them as the wood under their feet tried to pierce them. Onar sprinted forward, dodging ever spear of wood that tried to skewer him. He leapt into the air and went teeth first only for bands of wood to wrap around his throat and pull him to the ceiling.

Sheldor used the whip form of his arm to shatter the beams and Onar fell to the floor on all fours.

Wolowix sent little wooden balls with sharp teeth bouncing after the alchemist as Onar tried to attack again. Bawe would kick them and send the nerk flying in another direction, Sheldor took his chance. He ran forward, his left arm out as it shifted into a huge, long blade. Bawe sent spears of wood from every direction, but Wolowix had him covered. Bawe dodged the slicing attacks and dove towards the hole. Sheldor spun and was distracted for a moment by the Indian woman still in the corner, but his attention snapped back to Bawe and he ran after him.

Outside in the town, Sheldor ran out of the alley to the main street where Bawe was waiting with a smile on his face, "You know I am never weally awone, wight Sheldor? You and your mewwy band of do-gooders don't stand a chance against Wady Fowlewa. But, you won't get to find out…"

There was a crack of thunder and Bawe whistled into the night air. The smell of rain took over his senses and a quake was forming. Around the corner, an enormous three-headed dog trotted and stood behind the alchemist, "Sheldor… meet my newest cweation… I call him number thwee… THWEE… KILL!"

Each one of the dog's heads snarled and Bawe smiled smugly.

Wolowix stepped forward, determined to burst this guy's bubble. He rubbed his hands together and muttered an incantation then stopped his hand movements. He opened his eyes and they were blazing blue and he clapped his hands together. The sound reverberated loudly and the huge three headed canine burst into smoke. When the smoke cleared, there was a small plush three-headed dog on the ground. Wolowix smiled, "Awww… isn't that cuuute…"

Bawe snarled and snapped his fingers and the plush set on fire. Wolowix was about to express how much of a spoil-sport he was until the first grew and formed into a dragon very eerily like the gila-monster fire in Kardiaflora. It snapped its flaming jaws and lunged forward. Onar and Wolowix dove to the side while Sheldor stood his ground. There was something boiling inside of him… something he couldn't quite control… his eyes bore black again and his arm began to almost bubble and ooze a black tar. The dragon of fire engulfed around Sheldor, leaving his friends screaming his name and Bawe clenching his hands as if crushing him in his hands. Suddenly, the bright flames of the dragon dimmed down and then oozed like Sheldor's arm was doing. The ooze seeped into Sheldor's arm and Bawe looked horrified.

Sheldor was hovering above the ground like a scarecrow, again, and he slowly went back to the ground. His head moved down to bow as his arm rose before him in a clenched fist pointed towards Bawe.

Bawe mumbled a spell that made the ground twine around him like a snake. Sheldor opened his eyes and the blackened eyes oozed out the darkness like smoke, his arm jerking back before a sharpened projectile shot out of his arm and whistled towards the coiled snake. The projectile burned through the object like metal through water and the creature erupted into black ash then into nothingness revealing the projectile penetrated its mark. Bawe looked down at the long black arrow with midnight blue fletching with silver on the tips. It seeped into the alchemist and his body went rigid. Wolowix and Onar watched in horror as Sheldor walked towards him menacingly.

Sheldor nearly bumped noses with the alchemist as he finally stopped and stared down at the helpless alchemist. Sheldor gave a monstrous grin full of sharpened shark-like teeth with his eyes blackened with tiny slits of blue. The hourglass upon his cheek burned red like the edges of the marks were on fire. Bawe began to shiver in fear as all he could do was stare at the creature before him. A demonic voice ripped into the air with a crisp bass, "Hello Kwipke… I know I said I would only ask this once, but seeing as how you don't have any beer to throw at me… let me see if we can do this again… Where is the witch's castle?"

Bawe's body and his lip quivered, but words managed to get out, "As much as I am afwaid of you… I'm morwa afwaid of Wady Fowlewa. You won't get anything fwom me."

The demonic Sheldor tisked through his shark teeth and shrugged, "Pity."

Sheldor took two steps back then turned his back and walked towards his friends all while the point where the dark arrow hit began to burn a hole where it penetrated. Bawe screamed in utter agony as the blackness quickened and combusted the alchemist into nothing but charred bones and flakes of ash snowing to the ground. His screams still echoing against the buildings.

Onar and Wolowix both stared at the remains as Sheldor walked in between them back towards the pub.

As Sheldor walked, his human self fought to come back. His eyes finally reverted back to the cobalt color they normally were. He bypassed the bar when he got to the pub that was completely vacant of everyone except the Indian lady still in the corner, and headed straight for the men 's room. There was a vile stench, but he just slammed the door, locked it, and slammed his hands on either side of the mirror. There was an unearthly growl forming in the back of his throat as his anger once again soared. He jerked his head up and stared at the reflection with a snarl, "WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME? YOU'RE TRYING TO POSSESS ME! EXPLAIN YOURSELF!"

Chrsnyght's appeared in the mirror with a very unimpressed face, "Me? I'm not trying to possess you…" She slipped through the mirror and Sheldor backed up as she sat upon the sink, "I warned you how unpredictable Demonic Magic could be. YOU are the one turning yourself into a demon… not me. Note the white pupils in my eyes compared to your swirling black mass of smoke. That means I have clarity… that I'm not throwing around my emotions all willy-nilly like you like some sexless drone finding out that he's a REAL BOY. The Demonic Magic is feeding off of your anger and making it a weapon, making YOU a weapon. The more you depend on or hang onto that anger… the more the demon is going to feed and the more you're going to change. You can't control Demonic Magic, Sheldor… Stop trying to control everything around you! Learn to let go. Sometimes… you gotta just let go… and give in to temptation."

She evaporated into thin air as Sheldor aimed down at her but shattered the sink instead.

He screamed at the mirror with wrath and contempt as his armored hand scrapes down the wall with deep marks. His head dipped down as he began to pant. Chrsnyght's voice came to him, again, from the mirror, "Love…" The word made Sheldor look up with smoking black eyes and she continued, "Love is a strong magic... did you know that? OF COURSE you did, but… I'm just going to assume you don't have any idea of what LOVE really is and explain… Love is stronger than ANY spell, than ANY demonic possession, and ANY witch's brew that ever existed… It can rip you apart and mend you from any wound. It is the only thing in this world that no man can predict, grasp, or control. It can be used as a weapon… as a liberation … even as a cure. That is what makes Love and Demonic Magic ultimate enemies. Neither one can dominate the other, but neither can they exist on the same plane of existence. Where one is present, the other is absent. For instance, tell me, Sheldor…Do you love Penelope?"

Sheldor's head rose slowly until his newly cobalt blue eyes connected with her white pupils and completely vacant of the blackness that had consumed them.

She looked at him with a smirk as the blackened eyes seeped back into his pupils to reveal his blue eyes, "I thought so…" Chrsnyght rippled into the mirror and showed Penelope. She was in a darkened dungeon with a rope tightly noosed around her neck with her toes barely touching the ground. Her hands were bound in front of her, but the rope was staked into the ground so that she couldn't raise her hands high enough to loosen the strain of her neck.

Her eyes were black and blue; her cheeks were bruised and had deep cuts in them. Her lip was busted and the top of her left ear had a notch ripped out of it. Her black body suit had long rips with deep wounds underneath. The only thing that hadn't been sliced was her feet, her boots barely dangled to the ground.

The sound of the rope's bending clicked filling his ears as he watched her sway lifelessly. Her eyes were closed in a painful display of swollenness. A rat-like humanoid with armored skin and quills jutting backward stepped up with a whip. It had beady yellow eyes and a turtle shell on its back. Its skin looked slimy and infested with mange as it gave a throaty chuckle. Another creature that resembled the first, only taller, stepped behind him with a female creature that looked like the males, but her face was more of a hyena than a rat. She snarled a smile and Sheldor could see the Morningstar scepter hanging from her hip as she spoke an unknown language that was a rudiment of clicks, growls, and snapping of the tongue and the three left.

Chrsnyght's voice cut in, "Say hello to the Skaldjilk. They are better known as Orcs and the first guardians of Lady Fowler's arc. She has over 200 of these monsters right in her pocket. Some she has in the castle just in case intruders DO make it through the three arcs. That female orc there is called Alicyka. She is the leader of the whole Skaldjilk Grex. She has a thing for your girl and I don't mean in a 'Happy Happy Fun Time' kinda way. It's rare that she is in the castle, but it seems that Lady Fowler has been having some issues with controlling Penelope since she met you. Usually… she just zaps her and she whines like a puppy and is back at her side all happily, but NOW… she can't even HOLD her heart without getting burned. So, for Penelope's punishment for disobeying her master… Alicyka is ordered to beat your girl until she breaks. And for the three days you've been missing from the world… she hasn't been broken yet. For some reason, though, they were ordered to stop. Seems as if Lady Fowler has something better planned."

Sheldor's stomach fell and his eyes watered with emotion, his eyes slowly starting to shift back into their normal human look. He bowed his head and groaned in frustration. His cries were animalistic, but soon they turned into a human male's wailing. He heard a small female whimper and Sheldor's eyes flew back to the image.

Penelope's swollen eyes opened to show that she was still, in fact, alive, but her olive eyes were blood shot and squinted as she cringed in pain. She fought against her restraints, whimpering in pain as she does, but nothing was accomplished. She didn't move for a short time; as if she were deep in thought. It was then that a streaming trail of tears traced down her bloodied face and across her deepened wounds as she whispers to no one within the dungeon, "I'm sorry… I'm so sorry Sheldor." She sobbed even as she struggled for air… she sobbed not because of the pain she was in… but for him.

Sheldor's teeth, hair, skin, and eyes popped back to its normal tint at the sound of his name on her lips. The image of Penelope was gone from the mirror and nothing was left but his own reflection. Tears he didn't know he was shedding slowly trickling down his cheek.

He felt… normal… and in control but his heart began to burn with agony. He did his best to push the image of Penelope out of his head as he assessed himself by lifting his arm and twisting it around. He looked back at the mirror with his brows dipped in confusion and he muttered, "Why would she even be thinking of me at a time like that? A time where those creatures were beating her senseless! She's been tortured and beaten and she cries… for me? Why…" He stepped back not looking away from the mirror, clenching his fists. The demon didn't answer, but really, he didn't expect her to. All he knew was that he had to save her… No… He was going to save her!

He shook his head and headed back to the pub's main entry way. Onar and Wolowix stood at the hole in the wall and looked at him worriedly, "I'm sorry, friends… I… I seem to have found a balance of my powers, now."

The two entered the pub with smiles, glad to see their friend was, somewhat, back to normal.

The Indian woman emerged from the shadows that Sheldor had been curious about. He was startled, not by her traditional Indian attire, but by the large wings that were folded pristinely upon her back. The deep red and white wings matched her kaccha nivi almost flawlessly. Her walk was meticulous and almost royal-like. The headdress and ankle jewelry jingled as she walked towards them, her bindi was red and a single, oval jewel upon a chain hung down to almost matched its position perfectly.

Sheldor was not impressed, but she had the other two's attention as she spoke with her accent beautifully fluent, "Greetings young warriors. I am Pryna… daughter of Vrishin and Jyoti Koothrappali… sister to Rajesh… and a child of the sky or, as the land dwellers call us… Garuda. I am here seeking out my brother who has gone missing. We have sent scouts over every inch of land but have yet to find him. I have done a lot of snooping and have found all the evidence I need to know that my brother is now being held captive by the Blood Witch's daughter. My father wishes for his safe return, so I have been given orders to find the most suitable companions to retrieve him."

Onar tilted his head as Wolowix looked at her strangely as Sheldor spoke, "The people of the sky usually do not ask for assistance from the land dwellers… you believe yourselves higher than the rest of us... ridicule us… take from us even when we have nothing left to give… why would we want to help you?

She narrowed her eyes, "Not all of us are heathens, Sir Sheldor. I offer you the information you have been seeking. As I've said, my brother is being held captive by Lady Fowler… and I know where he is."

Sheldor didn't like the way the woman looked at him. He was not opposed to the Garuda race, but he had seen one of them in their full Roc form and took about six cows in one swoop with a massive grip of its large feet and bolted up into the sky. He was supposed to get those cattle to a sell, but the Garuda just stole with no apology. Sheldor knew it wasn't this woman; her plumage color did not match. He pinched the bridge of his nose, then shot his head up and spoke in a loud voice, "You know where the castle is?"

Pryna gave a short nod, "We are people of the sky, Sir Sheldor… our eyes see what the wind can touch. Know this… I am the only chance you have of finding your woman."

Sheldor stood closer to the winged woman with a serious look, "What makes you believe we're strong enough to save your brother?"

She cleared the space and was nearly nose to nose, "Because you have everything to gain… and nothing to lose."

Sheldor swallowed then looked over at Wolowix, who just raised his brow, then over to Onar, who gave a nod, then back to the Hindu angel before him, "Very well… how will we get to the witch's castle?"

Pursing her lips, she took a step back and her wings expanded. She had long pair of wings that were twice her body length then there was a smaller, second pair that was no shorter than her arms that expanded from her lower back as she smiled solemnly, "We fly, of course."

Sheldor stood back and gave a smirk at huge span as his two companions jumped back at the suddenness of her extension. Sheldor walked towards her and extended his hand, uncharacteristically, and spoke, "Miss Koothrappali… consider yourself one of us."

Wolowix grinned behind him as Sheldor and Pryna shook hands, "One of us… One of us!"

Lady Fowler stood at the pedestal, where Rakooth was unfolded, showing her Penelope, as she flexed her metallic replacement arm. Easy magic, limb proxy was easy enough, but it still bothered her.

How did that witch hunter's ridiculous magic even penetrate her shield? The bow made from her Aunt's bones shouldn't have even tickled her let alone abolish her appendage. It frustrated her… to not be in control… to not understanding the situation… to not have that bastard under her boot. She sighed inwardly and looked up to see her once obedient slave, now fighting her every attempt to bringing her back to her once subservient self. She needed her heart… still flowing with only a slight hint of purity that she needed to keep her body from shattering like a porcelain doll. She needed that witch hunter's heart… the unbelievable power that it held… it could free her mother and enhance her powers 100 fold, but the damn thing disappeared… even masked its aura so she couldn't trace it.

She slammed the book shut with a grunt of aggravation, "Explain something to me, Rakooth… why can I not control my own minion and why can I not find that BASTARD'S HEART!"

She banged her metallic hand against the wall she leaned on, "I barely give her a little wiggle room to seduce this man, and she returns to me with her heart filled with protection spells. She STILL fights me… and on top of that… how does one have the ability to place an arcane spell upon a vital organ while dying? He really cannot be THAT powerful. Rakooth! Find me that HEART!"

The tattered cover snaps open and a miasma form above the open pages and twists into plethora of different shapes until it decides on the floating head of a Rhesus monkey. Rakooth's Indian accent slips through as the monkey's jaws move up and down, "My Lady… even when I manage to pinpoint the heart's location; it has already moved. Tracing it has become quite impossible."

Lady Fowler's eyes burn red. She raised her metallic arm, holding her palm up as a green flame erupted, a heart beating furiously in her hands. The green flame around it had intensified to the point that it whipped and lashed out randomly. Lady Fowler extended her arm so the flame wouldn't burn her clothing. If it had not been for the metal appendage, the heart would've easily had burned away the flesh. The girl's heart had been charmed… but how? She'd had it the whole time. When did that arrogant witch hunter have time to place a spell upon her 'Bestie'? The blonde was becoming far too much of a hassle and needed to be disposed of, but… finding another female with a pure heart was tiring and she didn't have time. She NEEDED to find that witch hunter's heart.

Rakooth's form shifted and the mist became a crooked mirror that showed Penelope still hanging. Lady Fowler stepped towards the scene and watched the limp, defeated body of her once feisty 'Bestie' and a yellow flame burned into her eyes. She didn't understand why a lowly man such as Sheldor meant so much to this… drone. Penelope's tears bled down her cheeks and Lady Fowler heard her words, "I'm… I'm so sorry Sheldor." The flames of Lady Fowler's mask went out completely and showed her true eyes. They had sadness for the girl in them as she stared at her sobbing drone.

Rakooth's voice broke her focus and a blue flame filled the eye sockets of the mask, "My Lady, your alchemist has just been killed."

Lady Fowler backed up, "By WHO?"

Rakooth didn't even hesitate, "Sheldor."

Lady Fowler shook her head, "He was far too flighty, anyway. Good riddance."

Rakooth spoke again, but his voice was almost frightful, "My Lady… there is more… the… the witch hunter's heart is gone."

Lady Fowler's eyes were a menacing red, "WHAT! HOW?"

Rakooth formed into strings reverberating as he spoke, "I'm not sure… It's… It's just gone."

She spun and spoke, "I need to speak with my mother… inform the Skaldjilk Grex that their services are required for battle. Make sure their catapults are ready and aimed towards the sky. The Garuda are headed our way."

She marched out of the room without so much as another word and misses the mist of the book rise high above the pages into an Indian boy with golden brown wings staring after her with grief-stricken eyes.

Lady Fowler's steps were swift and daunting as her boots clicked against the wooden floor of the pristine castle hallway. Tables with flowers upon them or old artifacts from a past life sitting on them, paintings of older women with tradition garb on, perfect collections of medieval armor standing with axes and swords in hand, and a candle sconce on the wall for every 12 feet were just some of the items that Lady Fowler passed as she stomped forward. The candles burst into flame as her close passing and expended once she passed. The armor almost seemed to stand straighter at attention as she passed them. Even the painting's eyes seemed to follow her as she moved. She finally made her way to the beginning of a hallway and she turned into it.

She stared up and down the enormous honey red oak door. No handle or crease was visible, but the top of the frame came to a dramatic spaded point. She moved her eyes down to the old man's face with a snazzy dark tanned hat and a large thick, silver ring in his mouth. The old man's face was in a weird smirk, even with the ring intricately placed, and his short boxed beard was full gray and well trimmed despite the known craziness of the gargoyle.

She stepped forward and took the ring in her metallic hand and knocked upon the door once and spoke, "Rothman… I would like to see my mother."

The old man's face cracked and popped as the wood came to life. He looked up at her with carved wooden eyes and a huge, gangly grin on his face as he talked clearly with no problems from the ring seemingly plastered into his mouth, "Well HELLO there handsome! Come to steal my apples, have you, you devilish worm! I will not give up without a fight!"

He snapped his jaws towards Lady Fowler and she began to lose her patience. Her eyes burned a little red and slapped the wooden man's face. He yelped like a baby bird and looked up at her as she spoke again, "I have come to see my mother… if you want your lower jaw to still be intact… I advise you to open the door immediately." She gripped the ring tightly with her eyes blaring red. She slowly began to pull the ring tighter and tighter.

Rothman began to whimper the tighter she pulled before he began loudly barking 'Alright'. Lady Fowler let the ring go and it bonked against the wood a few times as the old man moved his wooden jaw left a right a few times before going completely still. There was a crack that split from the center of his nose and up past his hat and down past his chin that went the length of the entire door. Slowly the wood began to split open and opened towards Lady Fowler. A rush of smoke and air hissed out until the doors were finally open.

Inside Lady Fowler could see the large, old sycamore tree at the end of a grassy walk way that was surrounded by water. The leaves of the tree were a blood red. Lady Fowler started to move down the grass towards the tree. There was a small golden glow against the trunk of the tree that she could never stop staring at, no matter how many times she came here. It was the arrow that Sheldor used to trap her mother within this tree. She had brought men of knowledge, beasts of strength, and myths of magic yet nothing budged the arrow. Only the one who placed the seal upon the arrow could break it… Sheldor.

She stopped where the roots of the tree waved down into the ground below and reached up to the mask. She placed her hands upon the face of the mask and it came to life like the tentacles of a squid. They wrapped around her hands and she pulled the monstrosity away. Her eyes were still intact, but upon her cheek were small hairline cracks that were formed from the missing lower half of her entire face. Under her nose were jagged edges then a hollowness that led down to her shoulders. The sides of her neck were still intact, but were just as cracked at the edges of her face. The short trunk molded around the arrow until the body of her mother morphed and protruded from the bark, "Hello my child… back again, I see. Let me guess… you lost the heart."

Lady Fowler's eyes went downcast, "Yes, mother."

Lordornia's arms form from the wood and they rose up with pops and cracks of the bark. She slammed them on either side of her and pushed her wooden form as far as the arrow would allow, "Foolish girl! You allowed that simpleton of a drone to complicate your advances."

Lady Fowler felt like a sullen puppy around her mother. She was a heartless creature, but she was always there when she needed her. She kept her eyes downcast as she spoke, "I needed her to get close, mother. I had to find a vulnerable spot to strike him before I could remove his heart. It was a part of your plan, mother. The moment it was in my hands and his lifeless body fell to the ground… it disappeared into thin air. Now, Rakooth is unable to locate its essence."

Lordornia hummed lowly with a knowing tone, "Where did you leave his body?"

Lady Fowler spoke, "The Disavowal Dimension."

Lordornia's eyes went wide, "WHAT? You left him there? Please tell me you set his body on fire before you left."

Lady Fowler looked up, "No mother, I didn't."

Lordornia cursed under her breath then stood up straight with the arrow still where her heart would be, "FOOL! The demon's daughter still resides there… she'll use him to get revenge! Quickly… show me the girl's heart!"

Lady Fowler looked cross and Lordornia looked down, "What are you doing? Why are you just standing there? SHOW ME HER HEART!"

Lady Fowler took her metallic hand and presented the heart in her hand. The moment the heart presented itself, it exploded with blue pulse that rippled through Lady Fowler and Lordornia with a painful blow and jolting energy. It retracted the Blood Witch back into the tree with a wallowing scream and sent Lady Fowler flying back and sliding against the grass. The heart disappeared the moment it attacked.

She got back up, slowly, and stared madly at the place she was once standing. She got tossed back more than 15 feet and her mother was pushed back into the tree. As she stood to her feet, he raised her right hand, where the squid like mask was gripping tightly, and the mask covered her face again. Her eyes burned a red tone that was indescribably anger and she spoke out loud.

"My sweet sweet Bestie… you hold Sir Sheldor's heart and you don't even know it!"