The Witch and the Watcher

Three

ThreeLenga crouched low over the crude tabletop, her withered breasts swishing against the rough planks. Stood before her was a giant of a man, his unkempt black hair almost touching the wooden ceiling. He stared at the witch through impenetrable black eyes. His swarthy skin pockmarked and scarred. An equally unkempt black beard almost reached his belt buckle. He stood watching the old hag patiently. At his side, an equally large man loomed. His shaven head covered in tattoos. His only eye surveying the snakes that writhed in the large vat. Over his empty eye socket, he wore a leather patch with a white spider stitched crudely across the front. At their side sat two large hounds. Huge heads in line with the men's chests. Their long grey tufted coats, bare in places, lesions adorning the skin. Their black eyes as dead as night.

The bearded giant cleared his throat. “What do you see, Lenga?”

The witch coughed up a ball of black phlegm, spitting it onto the table. She took an obsidian blade from her gown, slicing her wrist until it sprayed dark red blood across the table top. Her long fingers scored the surface, mixing the phlegm and blood into a grisly mosaic. “They have travelled far, in the time it took you to get here. They have entered the swamplands. How long will it take you to catch them, Valkan?”

The giant rubbed his face, his eyes not giving anything away. He turned to his brother. “Cranja. What say you?”

“Seven Moons,” the other giant said, his light, lyrical voice out of place in the dreary cabin.

“Is that quick enough for you, Lenga? It will take at least another seven moons to get back, maybe longer.”

“Fine, fine. I can wait. I've waited a long time for the taste of man flesh.” She looked at the two men. “I know you are men. But you're diseased and riddled with pox and other nasties. This man is from another world. He'll surely taste like the sweetest nectar. It makes my quiver tingle just thinking about it.” To emphasise her point, she rubbed herself between her thighs, cackling as she did so. Cranja's face wrinkled in disgust as she sniffed at her slick fingers, turning away to look at one of the severed heads on the wall.

“Well, we will begin the hunt immediately. The boys outside can forge on ahead, for they are faster of foot than us two ogres.”

“You can do what you want with Tamatan. Eat him. Sodomize him. Feed him to your hounds for all I care. But bring the man to me, unmarked and unsullied.”

“You have my word,” Valkan said.

“Pah! Your word is as hollow as my dug's. Make sure you bring him unharmed. If you do, sweet treats will befall you. Now go. Make haste. I need to take my rest.” She shuffled over to a rocking chair easing herself down, her bones protesting as loudly as the wood she sat against. “If you do eat the demon, bring his head all the same. It will look good on my wall.”

The brothers made their way outside, the hounds shuffling after them. Twenty men stood, idly smoking crude pipes as the mist blew in from the sea. Valkan motioned them closer. “Listen up. They have taken the lonely road towards the swamps. A man and Tamatan the demon. The man is to be unharmed. Do you hear me?” A collective nod of heads. “Any man who harms him will taste my balls in his mouth.” A low chuckle ran through the g**g. “We will follow. Go. Get them.” The men trotted off down the muddy slopes, towards the collapsed cave next to the sea. The two huge hounds following them. Valkan and Cranja walked slowly after them, lighting pipes of their own. As he blew out a breath, Valkan addressed his brother. “We said we'd not harm him. That doesn't mean that we can't have a bit of fun though.

The other man smiled, revealing blackened stumps. “I've not had sweet meat for a while. We can sample his backside a few times before we give him over to the old hag.” They broke into a jog, their heavy boots thudding on the earth as they went. Both men held similar thoughts as they ran into the depths of night. Man flesh.

* * *

The two figures huddled together in the darkness. The moon above was shrouded in low clouds and mist, keeping the land cool. The glow from the demon's eyes cast a red hue on the tufted grass where they sat.

“How much further?” the man asked, massaging his thigh.

“I have no idea, Jake. This is an un-travelled road for Tamatan. The sea looks to have given way to swamps. We must carry on. There is no turning back. They will be coming for us.”

“You still think that?” the man asked, wincing as his fingers probed a tender piece of muscle on his thigh.

“Without a doubt. I'd not visited that place for a long time. But there is darkness there. Darkness that will know we were there. The witch will send someone to take us back.”

“Lenga.”

“Yes, Lenga. She will want our heads on spikes, and not before she has had her fun. That's why there is no turning back. We must carry on if we're to find our way back to our loved ones. I do hope my family is safe.”

“Mine too,” Jake said solemnly. “Mine too.”

* * *

The cottage was quiet. Around it, the forest lay still, no sounds of animals or far off traffic could be heard. Past the wooden fence that separated the cottage garden from the Lickey Hills, a mist appeared from a fir tree. It snaked its way down the trunk to the wet grass, slowly moving towards the cottage. As it reached the kitchen door, it wound its way around a drainpipe, slowly climbing until it reached the guttering. The yellow form slid its way across grey roof tiles, heading towards the window on the corner of the cottage. It pressed itself against the glass, swirling and pulsing as it located its quarry. The malevolent force sensed a life form beyond the glass. It swirled rapidly, pushing against the pane, trying to find a way in. Hitting the glass with more force, caused the sleeping life form inside to stir in their sleep. The mist sensed something to its right, a slither of its mass breaking away from the rest. It headed upwards, creeping through a vent built into the wall. Yellow tendrils seeped out of the other side of the vent into the bedroom beyond, curling their way down a light stand. It crawled over the carpet, climbing up the end of the bed, before making its way towards the life form. The vapour sat on its chest, feeling the rise and fall of its breathing, listening to a steady heartbeat. The mist outside enveloped the entire window, darkening the room further as the tendrils made their move. As Jasper breathed in steadily, the mist found its way in, snaking its way up his nostrils, vanishing from sight. Outside, the yellow cloud dispersed, heading away into the darkness. To wait. Jasper breathed deeply, his dark brows twitching slightly. He squeezed the brown bear that he'd always slept with, slowly wringing its neck with his hand. His eyes opened suddenly, the iris's yellow and blank. He blinked twice, clearing the yellow mist that quickly snaked its way into his mouth. Jasper sat up, his Captain America duvet falling away from him. Dark eyes fixed on the window as a word formed on his lips. “Reggan.”