Witch's Fury

Word Count: 1,000

He’d found it on his porch the day they’d taken Theta. He hadn’t known what to do with it until her apprentice, Chellie, had come to his home seeking shelter. The girl had seen the forgotten package sitting half-opened on his table and immediately hung the blue, glass ball in the window. He’d been too distraught reading the note Theta had sent with her apprentice to question it. It told him to stay put and protect Chellie. And to let Theta go. Like he had promised her he would.

    He hadn’t known when he’d made the promise that he’d be held to it so soon and not under these circumstances! But he had stayed at his cottage, crossbow at his side, and watched from the doorway as they took the old woman away in irons. He’d reached out to her and she’d smiled that same bittersweet smile she always did. There’d been nothing but quiet strength and acceptance in her worn face. It’d steadied him, anchored him to door and the last duty she had given him. Made the jeers of the mob nothing more than inconsequential noise and all their faces blurred.

    Except Sera, her beautiful face twisted in sick delight. She had let her eyes rove possessively over his body, not bothering to hide her desire for him or how happy she was to be the cause of this spectacle.

    Minister Polden, the man who had brought Sera to the village as a maid and nurse for his ailing wife, lead the procession. He fervently decried the woman who had kept his once beloved wife from death’s grip more than once. All at the insistence of the witch he’d taken for a mistress.

    He wasn’t alone. Everyone had fallen in love with Sera. Jonas was ashamed to admit he had also initially fallen for her charms. Theta had seen through the her from the first and that animosity and suspicion for the young woman had been her undoing. Instead of the real witch, Theta was going to her death.

    Despite it all, Jonas would have remained calm but Theta stumbled and Gil, acting as her guard, pushed her to keep her moving. Jonas raised the crossbow, ready to kill the man until Theta looked at him and shook her head. He would have fired anyway, promise be damned, if Theta hadn’t placed the smallest finger of her hand to her mouth and then her heart. You promised me, she said.

    He shook with rage, still unable to lower the crossbow until Chellie touched his arm. The girl couldn’t speak or wouldn’t: he had never been sure, but her eyes said more than any string of words. After several deep breaths, he’d lowered the weapon and let the procession continue. Chellie had tugged on his arm and they’d walked inside and closed the door.

    They’d known when the mob reached the gallows. The muted sound of the minister’s voice had drifted to them on the wind. The townspeople hurled their unfounded accusations; their collective cries strong and it seemed as if the wind rose with their fury and bloodlust.

    After a while, they did subside and only a drumbeat was barely heard over the howling winds.

    Jonas paced the length of the room, drawn again and again to the window although the Square couldn’t been seen. Agitated and heartsick, he'd snarled at Chellie. “I have to go to her!”

    “No!” The word stopped him more than her grabbing his arm. Her voice was quiet but forceful.
 
    “Chellie?” He made her name a question because there were so many others he wanted to ask her. “So you can speak?”

    She nodded and said, “If you go out you’ll be caught up in the Witch’s Fury.”

    He was completely thrown. This strange girl had been mute for the four years he’d known her, since, at ten, she’d come with Theta to their village. Now she was talking to him about things he didn’t understand.

    “Chellie, what is Witch’s Fury?”

    She looked at him with those eyes that had always been to old for her. “This storm isn’t natural. It’ll last for three days. Once it’s over, you’ll understand.”

    He gripped her shoulders and shook her. “Understand what, Chellie? Is Sera behind this? If she is, I have to stop it.” A thought occurred to him. “And I may be able to save Theta!”

    “No, Jonas, you can’t!”

    Jonas ignored the girl and raced to the door. It wouldn’t open.

    “You have to stay here until it’s done.”

    He turned to face Chellie. The girl had her hand lifted toward the door.

    Jonas felt afraid. “Did you lock the door?”

    She nodded slowly. “Theta told me to keep you safe until she came to get us.”

    His breath stuck in his chest. “How can she come and get us if she dies?”

    “Death is not always the end. Sera has a debt to pay and only Theta can collect it.” She'd said the last with a smile that Jonas had never seen on her face.

    He felt his mouth go dry. He was finding out more about the woman he’d come to love, despite their age difference. He’d known that Theta had some small ability but defying death?

    Unperturbed, Chellie reached out a hand to him. “Come, I’ll make lunch.”

        ------------

    They’d waited three days while the rains and winds lashed against his cottage. He’d been afraid that it would fall down around them but Chellie always reassured him.

    On that third day, the skies cleared as if nothing had ever happened. He’d wanted to go out and see the village but Chellie wouldn’t let him. “We must wait for Theta.”

    So he stared at the ball. He hadn’t notice the old woman until a moment ago. In his grief, he thought it resembled Theta.

    A knock at the door. Jonas opened it and Sera stood before him. He’d almost slammed it until she spoke.

    “Hello, my love.” It was Theta’s voice.