Raska Tales: The Risen Witch

"Dad said he was going to sharpen up his old sword for me. Fix me up some armor, too," she whispered, fists clenching. "Promise you'll be there when I set out. I want to remember your face, not your headstone."

"If my lungs keep me so long, my girl," Sally said, fighting the bloody cough welling up in her chest. "I'll be there to see you off on your first great adventure. To see my little bird leave the nest."

The glimpse of a smile creased the witch's mouth as she leaned in to kiss her mother's forehead. She then replaced the cloth on her forehead for a colder one Xerivan snuck into her grasp then stood from the bed.

"Please watch her for me, Xerivan. I need some air."

The Demon materialized in a wolf form and gave a nod to the witch as she went for the door of the single-room home. Haru stepped out into the cool air of the evening and the instant she had shut the door behind her, she collapsed onto all fours, unleashing everything she'd been holding back since dawn. Streams rolled down her cheeks as sobs escaped her tightening chest. Each breath she sucked in was forced right back out until she found herself gasping for air and choking on her own tears. She knew she'd be a pitiful sight for any passerby, but she couldn't care less. It hurt too much to worry about anything else.

"No woman this beautiful should cast this many tears to the world, lest said tears be for what is beautiful in this world."

Haru coughed as she looked to the brown, leather boots in front of her and then raised her head. A man stood over her offering her a hand and what she thought to be some sort of attempt at a comforting smile. In such a small community, she had come to know everyone in this village and the traders that passed through on a consistent basis. Whoever dared offered her aid now was neither a local nor was he a regular through her and that put her on alert. In an instant she was on her feet, though she was still shaking and shedding tears with her back to the door.

"I hadn't meant to frighten you, Miss, I just couldn't in good conscience pass a crying girl in the street without offering help."

Haru's reddened eyes narrowed, looking him over with some degree of suspicion. Middle-aged is what he appeared to be, not too handsome though not bad to look at. Grey-streaked, black hair was tucked under a grey, wide-brimmed hat. Wise, blue eyes smiled at her over the silver speckled goatee on his strong face. His body was lean yet slender, his skin well-tanned where it was exposed by his black tunic and trousers. These clothes were patched in places, stitched back together in others and faded from the sun. Around his waist was a girdle laden with pouches and empty sheathes for both a sword and a knife.

First profession that came to Haru's mind was adventurer, or a wanderer at least. She swallowed the lump in her throat and wiped her eyes in a quick attempt to make herself decent. When she was about to wipe her nose with the sleeve of her shirt, he quickly produced a handkerchief to offer, one she quickly used in place of her own shirt.

"Thank you," she murmured.

"You are most welcome," he answered. "Now tell me, young lady, what ails you to shed your tears so?"

The young witch dipped her head, her eyes falling to her feet. "My mom has mickle-lung. She has a week left, at best."

"You've tried Saeluk incense and Zith tea?" He immediately asked, his shoulders dropping as he saw her nod.

"We tried everything. Not even the town mage can help. All we can do is make her comfortable."

A long exhale escaped his chapped lips before he removed his hat and held it to his chest. Bending at the waist he bowed to the witch while saying, "My condolences, fair child, and I wish she may pass in peace into the next life free of regret, and surrounded by those she loves."

A faint smile lifted the corner of Haru's mouth, her black eyes once again going over his gentlemanly gestures as he stood and donned his hat.

"I thank you for your kindness, sir. May I... ask you your name?"

He gave a smart nod, pressing a closed fist to his chest and again gave a shallow bow. "Of course, milady. Thomas Harry Acheson the Second. Traveling historian from the Isles."

Glancing quickly at the worn sides of his boots and the leather bound book held in a special pouch on his hip, Haru managed to let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

Every adventure starts somewhere, she thought.

"Tell me, Thomas, where do you plan traveling to next?"

He raised an eyebrow to her, surprised by the sudden question. "I venture west, to Giran. Why do you ask?"

....................

The trotting of horse hooves along the gravel path helped fill the quiet between the two travelers. Both riders were dressed in black and rode black steeds of impressive stature and physique. The differences between them was that Thomas's horse had light blue eyes, and Haru's steed had eyes glowing blood red. Thomas carried a polished rapier and wore a simple cuirass over his tunic. Haru carried a longsword which bore an emblem of the Giran army on the handle and wore leather armor bolstered by chainmail.

"She's probably gone by now," the witch muttered, stroking a hand along Xerivan's neck as he trotted along.

"She was a great woman, with a legacy behind her," Thomas responded. "Never let her from your heart, though, my new companion. Never let that love die and neither shall she."

The witch looked to him and the placid look upon his face, tilting her head to the side as he breathed out deliberately slow. A moment later he straightened his back and cycled his lungs again. That eccentric cheer and charm then returned to his body language and he looked to her with eyes betraying the facade he put forth.

"There is no need to cry for what you lost, dear girl. Chin up, eyes to the horizon. If your thoughts must fall to the past, remember that pain is temporary, but not the memories of the times you had."

Xerivan's eyes narrowed at the words while his daughter thought quietly.

"Have you lost someone important to you?" she asked.

Thomas nodded. "My parents when I was a young lad. My brother in a war in a land far, far to the south. My wife in childbirth."

The witch's shoulders slumped, her leather chest piece feeling rather tight all the sudden. "I'm sorry."

"It is quite alright, Haru. My brother had two sons and a daughter to survive him. And my wife gave me a boy who grew up strong and wise, who made me a proud grandpa of a boy and two girls, who I know would've been adored by my Leithabon."

"I didn't know you were that old, to have grandchildren," she said aloud. "Your hair has color still."

"Says the girl with hair of snow," he quipped, drawing a hint of a grin from her before he continued. "I have traveled many a lands, explored many old magics that have pulled years from my body and extended my life. Documented all in my journals in a script only I can read. Should your wish for adventure keep you at my side long enough, I could share my secrets with the daughter of Sally Nerae, the Seeker of Mithol."

"I told you I wanted to explore and get my first footing in the world with your guidance. Don't expect to rid of me easily."

"Even as we venture to the Keep of the Mountain Song?"

Haru looked to her companion with a cocked eyebrow, her mood rapidly turning to intrigue and disbelief. "That was lost years ago, I read. My mother sought it herself, she never found it."

"She didn't visit the records of Duke Luren," he noted with a bit of pride. "Though I have to say that it 'twas she who had the idea to search there in her third book. It cost me good coin and several favors to hire the dwarves to unbury the remnants of that place. But it proved a worthy sacrifice with the many records there that detailed the location of many lost troves of treasure and knowledge."

"You are a trove of treasure and knowledge yourself, Thomas," she said, looking to the road ahead. "And I look forward to the adventure that awaits us."

....................

The last clutches of winter hadn't released a lone pass high in the mountains of Giran even as the clear sky bore a bright sun that nearly brought the temperature above freezing. Under this noon sun, Xerivan trudged through the wet, knee-deep snow with Haru doing her best to keep seated in her saddle. In her heavy fur coat, sweat dribbled off her brow even with her breath pushing visible condensation out her mouth. Thomas rode behind them on his horse through the trail broken in the slush by Xerivan's efforts. Haru had insisted her mount go first as he was better suited to the task.

After nearly two days of climbing the mountain and following old directions through its tunnels and crevices, the adventurers came to the peak of a hill within the pass. There they stopped to look at the path ahead.

The ground curved down into a gradual descent and the walls of the pass spread out to form a large basin with high stone walls easily concealing anything within them. There was a massive structure built right into the basin's side, a keep by all definitions, plus a village and enough farm land to sustain it. By now the wall around this sanctuary had long collapsed, along with the main spire of the keep. A single tower of simple engineering was all that remained to cast its shadow on the dilapidated ruins of a once legendary town.

"The Keep of the Mountain Song?" Haru asked aloud, voicing her displeasure at the less than impressive find.

Riding up alongside her and gazing down at the ruins, Thomas grinned and drew a book from his coat. He flipped through some pages and found one that had a hand drawn image of a structure that distinctly resembled what lay before them, though in considerably better repair.

"This is it. She's seen better days, but three hundred years without a body to call it home would do that." He put his book away and took up his reigns while looking to Haru. "Shall we?"

Nodding, the witch gave Xerivan a pat on the neck and said, "Let's go."

The two raced off into the snowy dip, horses leaping and bucking their way through the deep snow. They crossed the basin to the rubble of the wall's main gate and moved into the town. There the snow had a better chance to melt with the stone buildings and streets absorbing significantly more sunlight. Both the explorers' mounts breathed easier now they were able to move with relative ease.

Without wasting time ogling at what was left of the town, they pressed on past the wrecks of the buildings, through the town square, and bee-lined for the entrance of the keep. One of the iron-backed wood doors had fallen off its hinges and lay inside the entryway while the other was fully open. An eerie creak echoed through the stone halls as it swayed back and forth in a breeze originating from inside the keep.

"They left the doors open for us. How gracious."

Ignoring Haru's comment, Thomas frowned and rode in first with her following close behind. He moved his mount out of the cold and into the warmer corridor before he dismounted and threw his reins over a candle post mounted on the wall. He then patted his horse's neck with some affection while taking in the interior of the long-lost keep, his gaze eventually coming to the tapestries on the ceiling. Depictions of battles and courtly meetings looked down upon him, alongside other images of historical significance that confirmed more than a few tales he had heard in the past. One repeating feature of all the images was something Haru found to be quite surprising, though it wasn't so for Thomas: a songbird.

"Pretty," the witch muttered before climbing down off of Xerivan and massaging her thighs.

"Do you know much of this place? The history? The legend?" Thomas asked, shooting her a quick glance.

She shrugged and looked to the tapestries above. "I heard it was in a place where the mountain sang at dawn and dusk, to welcome and say farewell to Calia as she turned her gaze to and away from the land. Here the first Emperor of Giran supposedly started his campaign to liberate and unite the three provinces that would come to be Giran."

"Correct, but that isn't all." He looked to the ceiling and pointed to the tapestries. "It is said Calia approached Ethan Ormun as he guarded the keep. High in the mountains, she came in a form that didn't belong so high and in the cold. A song bird."

As he told this, Thomas pointed to the first depiction, one of a stunning blonde in a toga standing behind a song bird. That bird flew forth to a lone knight standing upon the keep's wall who reached out to it as music notes flowed from his pursed lips.

"Ethan heard the bird whistling and whistled back a tune beautiful enough that she took it as a challenge. He dueled with the goddess of love with his passion in music, until he stopped whistling and sang a song that swayed her heart."

This tale was matched by an image of the knight whistling more musical notes that grew larger against notes of matching size coming from the bird. This was succeeded by a depiction of the bird being replaced by a woman, and the knight singing to her with a heart glowing on his chest as the keep and the people within it joined in.

"Calia revealed herself to him, and asked him to sing her another, and sing he did. He sang a song that moved the whole of his people and resonated in the mountain itself."

An incredulous look came over Haru as she guffawed and looked away from the images. "Ethan Ormund was the first Emperor, a proud warrior that created one of the largest empires in Astiko. You say he was not only a singer, but sang for a goddess?"

He nodded and continued to follow the pictures above. "His talent with his voice moved the goddess to grant him a single boon in exchange that he sing for her again in the afterlife. That boon he requested was the strength for him to bring freedom to his people, and the power to his descendants to maintain it."

"Ha!"

The witch's mocking laugh pulled Thomas's focus away from the tapestries. Crossing her arms and glaring out the doors of the keep to the world outside, the young witch started rambling before she even realized her voice was rising.

"Look at his descendent on the throne now! He killed his brother and ran his streets red with the blood of the 'impure' and 'treasonous.' And now he is losing to the revolution seeking to dethrone him!"

"Fate is cruel," Thomas said both calmly and sternly while rubbing his ring finger; his companion turned away with a scowl. "But don't forget that after the old King Richard was dethroned, his daughter disappeared. King Harris hasn't come out with the fate of his niece and he has no heirs of his own. With how valiant and successful the revolutionaries fight, who's to say Calia's favor has left Ethan Ormund's descendants?"

"A lot of faith in a legend," Haru growled.

"Sometimes a legend is just history that lost the evidence."

"Other times they're poppycock."

"You don't believe a goddess would come to the aid of a mortal? That a goddess couldn't be swayed by a mortal plight or feat?"

Haru looked to her hands as a dark flame rippled across her palms. Resting one hand on her father's sword, the other where her medallion had hung in her previous life, she spun on her heel and let a blaze of dark flames erupt from her white hair. Thomas raised an eyebrow to the display while Xerivan, still in horse form, began to shed black smoke in preparation to shapeshift and come to her side in an instant.

"The goddesses have left us long ago!" she thundered. "They've no pity, nor are they impressed by anything a mortal could do! I know there are people out there that could've used them before they were taken from their life and had done more than enough to earn another chance! If our goddesses cared, I wouldn't have lost-"

Tears trickled over her cheeks, and Xerivan trotted forward to lick her cheek. She hugged onto his head, holding him with all her strength as she broke down.

"Your mother was ready, my dear friend."

Shaking her head, Haru muttered, "I'm not talking about Sally..."

Right then, the door once fallen off its hinges lifted from the floor, reattaching to its frame and slamming shut. Haru's senses came alive to powerful magic in flux all around her. She spun about to see what so alarmed her while sniffling and trying to compose herself.

Before her eyes the ruins of the keep rose into the air, dust and rubble piecing back together and returning to their original places with not a single visible hand to assist them. The resulting scene left the keep looking as though it had never fallen to the effects of time. Columns and fallen pieces of the ceiling were restored, ice on the walls turned to steam and vanished, faded pieces of art on the walls returned to their original beauty. Carpets bleached by sunlight fleshed out into their original, vivid colors.

"There is irony in your words that you couldn't comprehend, Risen."

Haru and Thomas glanced to one another then drew their swords as those words echoed through the stone corridors, a haunting laugh following it.

"I thought this place was lost," Haru whispered.

"Did you see footprints in the village outside?" Thomas asked in return.

"The Risen, and Thomas of the Isles," the voice echoed again. "I welcome you to my home, but I'll say I've only room for one. And a secret to maintain."

The witch looked to Thomas and then to the door with a motion of her head calling for him to run. As she was about to open her mouth to make the signal verbal, he shook his head, grabbed her by the coat and pushed her toward Xerivan as he ran for his horse. "We're getting out together!"

"Is this normal for a ruin exploration?!" she asked while hooking a foot in a stirrup and swinging up onto her demon's back. A spell to solve the door problem already charging in her off hand.

"Not always," Thomas answered as he climbed up on his mount and turned it toward the exit. Frowning, Haru threw her hand forward and a wave of her magic blew the doors off the hinges. Thomas's horse reared up at the magic attack before he spurred it to get it down and running straight into a gallop for the exit. The two rode back out into the town square but immediately had their mounts skidding to a stop.

An illusion over the village collapsed before their very eyes, showing the derelict houses to be very much intact. The wall around the village was still standing strong and ready with a half-dozen men upon its ramparts with crossbows in hand. Moving in on the courtyard were ten more armed men, wearing a hodgepodge of leather and mail armor and carrying rusted swords. A pair of pike men blocked the road out with laborers moving behind them. They rolled out leather mats across the cobblestone that were embedded with steel blades pointing straight up meant to stop a horse in its tracks.

"Thomas," Haru whispered.

"Look at their faces," he replied.

With a glaring look cast at her companion beforehand, the witch did so, and the glare faded off. Each of the soldiers before them were gaunt faced and drooling through open mouths. Their eyes bearing a blank look void of any sign of life. Most of their movements seemed rigid and stiff rather than fluid or natural.

"They're under a spell, I can sense the magic now," Haru said aloud. "They are alive, I think. Although not nearly as much as they should be."

"Very astute, witch," the force spoke in unison. "Let us see how you fair against them."

Together the men started taking paces forward, closing in around Haru and Thomas as the latter's steed whinnied in distress. The pair brought their steeds about to race back into the keep only to find the doors returning to their place and closing up tight. Options running out, Haru shook her head, thinking, Sorry, Dad. I have to show him our secret.