A Witch's Touch

Prologue-3

“Your Majesty, escape!” Isha shouted as he swung his spelled sword at the swirling bands.

He was forced to retreat when the black mass solidified and formed into a half dozen deadly sharp points. He sliced through three of them. His blade sparked as it passed through the mass that dissolved and reformed. He clenched the sword’s hilt with both hands, trying different spells and striking again and again in an effort to find out what would temporarily stop the beast.

Behind him, he heard the Queen utter a powerful spell. Veins made of diamonds rose from the floor. The long tubular coils twisted and turned, creating a cage around the creature. Isha turned when he saw, out of the corner of his eye, a movement near the window. From the shadows, Magna appeared. Dressed in a gown of blood-red with her black hair flowing around her as if caught in gale force winds, she stepped out of a swirling dark mist.

Isha continued his retreat. Behind him, he could hear the Queen’s footsteps as she fled to warn the other guards. He could already see thin cracks appearing in the diamond prison the Queen had formed around the creature. Reaching out, he gripped the handle of the door with one hand and held his sword pointed toward Magna with his other.

His gaze swept over the Sea Witch’s face. Her skin was pale as moonlight, and her dark eyes held a haunted expression that looked too large for her gaunt face. Her lips were the color of a moonless night and slightly parted. She stared at him with unblinking eyes the color of ink.

“The time has come for the magic held within the Isle to belong to us,” she said in a voice that echoed strangely in the room.

Isha’s hand tightened on the sword. “I will see you buried in the darkest regions of the ocean before the Isle of Magic will ever belong to you, Sea Witch,” Isha snarled in an icy tone.

Closing the door and locking it with a strong spell, he wrapped both hands around his sword. With a shout, he poured every ounce of his magic into the sword. Lifting it, he charged Magna.

She stood still, as if waiting for his blade to pierce her. The diamond walls exploded, creating a deafening noise. Isha felt the pain from the diamond shards as they struck him but ignored it. Slicing his sword through the air, he caught his breath when the end of the sharp blade was stopped by a thick, black tentacle less than an inch from Magna’s delicate neck.

Isha cried in pain when another deadly band wrapped around his waist. The band lifted him off his feet while other bands encircled his arms and legs. His sword, still glowing with his magic, fell from his numb fingers. He struggled, but the bands gripping him felt like a giant’s fist squeezing his body until he was sure his bones would snap.

Gasping for air, he watched Magna step forward and bend to pick up his sword. Isha tried to withdraw his magic from it, but the blackness was draining him. He slowly curled the fingers of his right hand in frustration.

“Mag…na,” he gasped.

“You have no idea of the power we are dealing with, Isha,” Magna informed him.

Isha blinked when Magna lifted his sword. He opened his fingers to prepare for her strike, but he was instead shocked when she placed the sword in his hand. Darkness blurred the edge of his vision as a serene smile appeared on her face.

“Sleep warrior,” Magna murmured.

Isha’s lips parted on a gasp. He could feel the spell burning through his body like a flash fire. His features hardened until he was no longer a living, breathing entity but a stone statue in the image of the great warrior that he once was.