Raska Tales: The Risen Witch

"All my slaves return to the dining hall," the three men groaned in unison.

"Wonderful, we'll have company," Haru chortled before looking back at Dareth and raising her hand to unleash a full blast of her magic.

The wizard's shield flared into a full sphere to protect him as the wall at his back cracked under the power unleashed by the witch. Immediately two of the puppeted troops stumbling back into the room let loose terrible screams as they dropped dead from a pulse of magic. Haru sensed it quickly feed straight into Dareth and his shield.

"You sacrifice them," she muttered, looking to the wizard as Xerivan came to her side and stabbed his claws ineffectually at Dareth's bubble. "You power your spells with life force, you parasite."

He grinned through his shield, eyes still clouded over as the sound of armored men in full sprint sounded through the halls of the keep. "And yours would have fed me for a good long time. But I've yet to crack your will."

"And you never shall," Haru growled before looking to Xerivan. "Kill his puppets."

The Demon nodded and exploded into smoke, his cloud moving as one mass toward the doorway of the room to consume the first, unfortunate troop to stumble in. After the man disappeared within his cloud, Xerivan followed the voices he heard from the servants and bolted off into one of the many side doors to the hallway.

"You will run out of strength eventually. When you do, I can't wait to see what color your heart is," Haru taunted as she lashed out with another magical blast to make the shield flare. Wincing as his bubble thinned, Dareth seethed before closing his eyes to focus. Something shuddered under those robes of his and then he was screaming out in frustration.

"How is this possible?! Powerful light kills Shadow Shifters!"

Grinning, Haru lit her hands ablaze with fire, quickly changing from an orange color to a more intense white flame. The wizard saw this and, with the death throes of several of his puppets echoing through the keep, intensified the shield around him. Spell at full power, she drew her hands back and readied to unleash a scorching wind.

"You will pay for what you've done," she muttered.

She shoved both hands forward as something came whistling in from the side.

The spell in her hands failed. Eyes blinking wide, she moved her right hand to the back left side of her ribcage. There she felt a crossbow bolt protruding from her side, the tip penetrating through her armor and into her chest. Drawing her hand back in front of her revealed it covered in the blood that was already starting to drip from her leather chest piece. She then glanced back toward the source of the shot. To one lone puppet of Dareth's coming in from a side door while reloading his crossbow.

"Your Demon can't be everywhere Haru," Dareth said as his shield lowered.

Legs unable to hold her, Haru dropped down into her knees. In the next moment, her entire body tensed as a new pressure enveloped her skull. Like she was trying to squeeze it into a too-small helmet. Then the dark thoughts and unknown whispers began creeping in from the corners of her mind. She blinked and for a split-second it almost felt like she had slipped into a dream before she forced herself to focus.

Dareth's influence had been powerful before, but she had never felt it press in on her like this. It was almost painful to resist it as she felt his thoughts slip in deeper with hers. He was vying for control, he was coming for her power. With labored breath she looked up at the wizard and his triumphant grin as he leaned in and whispered, "Glad to see you finally kneel before me."

A different pain burned at the back of her mind and her eyes fluttered while there were flashes in her vision. Flashes that danced in her eyes and in her mind. Flashes that had tormented her for the past twelve years and delivered far worse pain than any damned wizard ever could!

Snapping the shaft sticking out of her side, she took the splintered bolt and swung it in with everything she had. With a rather girlish scream Dareth leapt back from her, clutching his face where the bolt shaft pierced through the side of his right eye and into his nose. Screaming out a hex as its incantation came to her, a black flame poured out from Haru's hand and into the wound to send his voice up another octave.

"As long as I live, a heal spell will never help you, Dareth," she spat before looking to the puppet with the crossbow, ready to unleash her magic back upon him.

She paused when she saw the slave looking about in a daze as the effects of the controlling magic wore off. When he finally gave his head a shake, his eyes fell upon the witch kneeling on the ground beside the screaming wizard. Spotting the blood coating her side, he threw his crossbow away and ran for her. Haru went to cast a spell in his direction but he raised his hands and shook his head.

"No! I'm free of him! I want to help you, Risen. Let me get you out before he has control again! You can't hurt him now, look! You should run while you can! You're free!"

The witch frowned, but could see the desperate clarity in his eyes. Still, she stole a quick glance toward the wailing Dareth as he writhed about clutching his face in agony with his shield raised. That damned golden bubble of protection held steady despite what she had done to him, and her own strength leaked out with her blood.

And as badly as she hungered for vengeance, the bolt had gone deep and the blood she could feel flowing down her side was becoming alarming. She didn't want to gamble on how long she could put off passing out from blood-loss versus how long his shield could last. Especially if he could start sacrificing his puppets again, or make another attempt to seize control of her mind.

She shook her head bitterly and allowed the soldier to approach. He came to her side and pulled her arm over his shoulder to help her back to her feet.

I'll be back for you. Suffer for now, more pain will come. When I'm stronger and your defenses are no match.

Putting as much pressure as she could on her wound, the witch staggered away with the soldier supporting her. Very soon a black cloud emerged into the main hallway, a pair of red glowing eyes fixing on the witch before darting toward her. Within moments the survivors of the Keep of the Mountain Song darted down the mountain side inside a black wisp.

They went beyond Dareth's reach and more importantly, beyond his control.

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

The night was clear under the new moon, a black, starlit sky staring down upon Haru as she lay atop a bedroll in a forest clearing. Holding one hand pressed to the bandage on her side, she rubbed her other hand between the ears of the wolf that rested its head upon her armor's leather chest piece. While her eyes traced the stars above, her mind thought back on the days past, and even more on the days yet to come. The vengeance yet to be reaped.

"Dareth won't be free of us long, Xerivan," she said. "We'll find him again. We'll make him suffer again. We'll finish the job."

"Or go even more mad trying?"

Haru's reaction was automatic and instantaneous. She leapt to her feet to face the new voice with Xerivan exploding into a dark cloud that hid beneath her cloak. One of his dark claws came forth to keep pressure on her bandages while two others stayed readied at her sides to protect her flanks. Drawing her sword and bringing a flame to her off hand, the young witch raised her weapon to the woman entering her camp while struggling to hold composure with the pain in her side.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" she demanded.

"Someone important to you, here to see that her daughter does not fall into the hands of evil a second time."

Daughter?

A human woman stepped forth from the darkness wearing a black, silk gown long enough to leave an arm's length of material dragging along the grass behind her. Gleaming silver hair shined over pale skin in the light of Haru's magic fire. When she had come within a few steps of Haru, she stopped, and over a sly grin her deathly black eyes narrowed as they met with the witch's identically colored gaze.

"Hello, my daughter. I have waited eighteen years for this day."

"Bullshit. Who are you?" Haru repeated, wincing at her wound though still holding her blade up.

The woman cocked her head to the side, glancing to the Demon cowering beneath the witch's cloak. She sighed with what almost sounded like longing before she straightened up and struck her most dignified pose.

"I, my sweet Haruyal, am Moitri. I am Death. Your mother in your rebirth."

Sword lowering slightly, Haru stared in wide-eyed disbelief. Something that was short-lived as she shook her head and grit her teeth with a furrowed brow. "You call me daughter, you claim to be my mother? You call yourself Moitri? Why should I believe you?"

The Goddess' loving look disappeared beneath an annoyed glare. Rolling her eyes, she waved her hand and Haru felt an instant, agonizing pain tear through her body. From head to toe she could swear her skin was being peeled off her bones and her insides were being burned to ash.

Her scream finally broke the night when she was then ripped forth toward the woman and immersed in a sense of cold and numb. She was left breathless and disorientated without any bearing on what had just happened. Blinking several times over, the daze over her mind cleared and she found herself face-to-face with the woman claiming to be her matron. When she dared a glance back at where she stood... She wanted to scream again, but she didn't have the lungs to do so. Her body was still standing in its place.

Looking to her hands she saw that she lost physical form. Both her arms, legs, her torso, her whole form proved to be nothing but a ghostly fog.

"I am your mother," Moitri said more firmly, bringing Haru's attention back to her. The Goddess shoved her hand into her daughter's chest and Haru felt the world give out from under her, her vision going black. The next moment had her sucking in a lungful of air and gasping for another before falling to her knees.

"Your father Xerivan Edson struck a deal with me after you died in that fire. He gave up his soul and in return, asked me to bring you to back to life after you lost yours so soon. For what he had achieved in his life, I accepted his offer and I carried you for nine months until birth. Three months I cared for you until you were strong enough and it was then that I had to leave you with Hector and Sally to raise while I tended to my duties as Goddess of Death in this world. And every year since that day, this Goddess had suffered a broken heart for the child she hardly knew."

Moitri tried to hold on to her composure, but that swiftly failed as her sorrow started to show through in her voice as she said, "Please don't fracture it any further."

"You... My Mother? Moitri?" Haru wheezed in confusion, her breath still weak.

The bare feet of the Goddess stepped in front of her. Haru lifted her head in time to see the tear that traced the deity's cheek as she offered her hand.

"I apologize, my child, for not intervening before your guardian mother and Thomas were lost. For not stopping Dareth when he sought to claim your power for himself. And for not preventing the madness his experiments and your birthright wrought. Know I am proud of you in your show of strength in escaping him. And now that my promise to another is fulfilled, I will have my time with you."

Arm still shaking from both her injuries and her out-of-body experience, Haru accepted Moitri's offered hand, coughing before she asked, "Will you help my magic grow? To help me ready myself to take my vengeance?"

Pulling her daughter to her feet, Moitri grinned as a portal opened behind her. "You are my daughter, Haru. I will do so much more than that."

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

With the last call declared for a lonely inn on the outskirts of Giran, a band of troops were quick to order in one last round from the barkeep before he sealed his kegs for the night. The skinny Elf in weathered black clothes and apron was quick to bring the quintet of armed men their fresh brews and take their empty steins away.

"Must be awfully glad the war is over to drink like that," the Elf said, trying to drum up a conversation with one of them.

"Fuck off," snarled one of the more grizzled looking men, taking a swig from his drink and slamming his tin mug down on the counter.

The Elf cocked an eyebrow, but ultimately shrugged. He took the mugs back to the kitchen while his barmaid collected the tabs and brought her bag of coins to the office in back. With the group now sitting alone at the bar, they were surprised when the front door opened and a person wearing a black cloak with the hood drawn stepped inside. The new arrival looked about the empty inn while wiping leather boots off on the welcome mat, after which focus landed on the bar.

"Last call, fuck off," that same grizzled soldier growled before taking another drink from his mug.

"Listen to the boss. Git,'" another chimed in.

"Not a nice thing to say to a lady," the stranger replied, her right hand shifting beneath her cloak.

"Lest you plan on spreadin' legs for me, I don't give a damn. Fuck off."

The stranger's mouth quirked to one side. "That's not nice. Then again, last time we were near each other, Sarth, you put an arrow in my back."

The leader of the troop turned on his stool now, eyes narrowed as he faced the woman beside the door. While she had a maniacal smirk plastered to her face, he an animalistic snarl growing on his. "The fuck you mean?"

She chuckled and pulled a rolled up piece of parchment out from under her cloak, unrolling it to reveal a hand-drawn picture of him, complete with the words "Wanted, dead" beneath it.

"Elksin. Twenty years ago. You were with General Dawson when he raided my home, Bowman Sarth. One of your squad hit me with shock powder, and you shot me in the back."

His eyes drew wide as he stood from his chair, his men scrambling to do the same. Drunk as they were, the five of them drew their swords and spread out, surrounding Haru as she swept her cloak aside and pulled her own weapon. A shining length of razor-edged steel that flared out in a leaf-shape at its peak with just the slightest forward curve. It was called a kopis, and Haru had customised the forging of the weapon to include a brutal barb at the very tip of the blade, and a skull engraved into the pommel.

"No fuckin' way you're that girl," he growled.

"Still a bounty on your head for my murder," she said while giving her blade a flourish and taking her fighting stance. "And I aim to collect."

Seething through his teeth, Sarth waved his offhand forward, ordering, "Get her!"

"Xerivan, if you would."

Four tendrils struck out from under the witch's cloak, spearing Sarth's men through their heads. When the arms of the Demon pulled back, its black fog pooled down around her feet and darted toward the door and slipped outside. This left Haru alone with the rogue bowman who stood trembling at what he just witnessed.

"You killed my mother, tried to kill me," the witch growled as she paced closer to him. "And now..."

His sword clattered to the floor, his body shaking as he stepped in retreat. He bumped into the bar behind him, and with a smile stretching from ear-to-ear she raised her blade up high.

"No, wait, NO!"

...

Outside the inn, a black horse with red eyes waited until the hooded witch came out from the bar with a full bag in hand. Securing it to the saddle of her mount, she climbed on and spurred its sides. The beast let out a snort and ran off toward the road leading out of town.

Despite the pair of knights that quickly took up pursuit after hearing the screams, no one caught the fleeing figure as her mount exploded into black smoke and carried her off into the night.

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

Upon an island situated in the heart of a lake, in the center of a city unscathed by war, stood a castle erected by the greatest of the nation's engineers. Built of the finest and strongest stones it cast a shadow upon a bustling capital of a broad empire and housed the throne of one of the most powerful people in this corner of the world. With rising spires and arches, high windows of colored glass and hundreds of statues and decorative murals this imperial home was a physical embodiment of the might of the empire it commanded.

Within its granite and limestone walls, set behind the doors of the balcony overlooking the currently crowded main city square, was the royal bedroom. A luxurious dwelling greater in size than most rural homes and complimented with a bed twice as wide as a man was tall. The wardrobes were spacious enough for a family to store all their clothes and still have room for more. A whole wall was lined with armor and weapon racks crafted of only the finest steel and inlaid with the purest gold.

Surrounded in these luxuries and marvels were two people. One sat on the bed, staring out at the noon-time sun through the round window above the balcony door as he said, "They call you the 'Slave Queen' you know."

Standing before a full-length mirror below a mural depicting one of many national epics, a woman with vibrant green eyes looked to the reflection of the man sitting on her bed behind her. Hearing this comment took her off guard at first, but this initial surprise was quickly followed by an intense glower. "I wonder why that is, Jack? You only kept me as your 'servant' for fifteen years."

He grinned slightly, but quickly found himself hanging his head in shame. "Will you ever forgive me, your highness?"

"Never," she answered, looking back to her own reflection and adjusting the back of her puffy red dress as to not catch her twirling, brown pony tail. "I will only accept it as a necessary act and carry on as I have for the past twenty years."

She spun around, making the bottom of her dress twirl about and wrap about her slender form. "How do I look?"

"Like a queen, Lady Chaylee," he answered.

He stood up and walked over to her, the queen feeling even more vertically challenged than she already was as he was a full two heads higher than her. Kneeling down to put himself on her level, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe a bit of smeared lipstick off the corner of her mouth. After that touch up he continued to go over her dress to ensure the new royal was looking her best for this special day. When he finally gave a nod of approval, she grinned and offered him her hand.

"Richard would be proud to see his daughter finally succeed him on the throne," he said with a hint of nostalgia as he took it.

"As would my mother and her husband," she added with a solemn tone, squeezing his hand as his eyes dipped to the floor with shame. "I wish that night could've been different."

"As do I," he agreed. "But I had my orders. He only wanted you and your sister to survive."

"I know, Jack. I know. Mom stole me from him when she and Papa eloped and he never got over it. I only wish Ruya..."

She shut her eyes and took in a deep breath to calm herself as he readied a handkerchief to dry any tears that showed before they streaked her makeup. But it proved needless as she managed to calm herself and nearly crush his hand in her grip at the same time. Regaining her composure she stepped forward and pulled him along. "Come, enough dwelling on our past, General Dawson, my people await my first speech."

Pocketing his handkerchief, he grinned and nodded.

"As you wish, my Empress."

The double doors leading to the balcony thrust open, a black cloud rolling into the bedroom before the doors slammed shut behind it. The latch fell closed with a heavy clack. In an instant, Dawson bolted for a sword off a nearby rack, only a black tendril lashed out and wrapped around his body.