Blood Of The Witch

Prologue15th Century Caden watched his brother cleaning the sword. They both knew the routine by now. Hedrek would sit for at least another hour or so wiping the blade, long after the sword was clean. This was what he always did after a kill. The fire Caden had lit was starting to crackle. Soon, the flames would take hold and Hedrek would sit until he was finally finished, and then they would leave. It wasn’t their fire, but they sat by it all the same. The owner of the fire lay dead in the corner of the room so he guessed she wouldn’t mind. He glanced over to where she lay. Her blood was filling the ceramic bowl they had placed beneath her neck. It wouldn’t get all of it; they would take her with them and drain her properly for that, but it would give them enough to keep their immediate supplies topped up. She was still dead. When you slit someone’s throat they usually are, but then witches are sneaky. He always liked to check. He would feel better once they finished with her and she could be burnt. Caden turned away from the rhythmic wiping up and down of the blade and watched the fire. It was a cold night and the fire wasn’t giving out much warmth yet, but it would. His mind played over the evening’s kill. Something about it didn’t sit right with him. The cottage was in an isolated location, deep in the forest, surrounded on every side by tall trees. They had moved quickly and silently through the darkness and into the witch’s cottage; Hedrek had come from the front and he from the back. A light mist had formed and hung ominously between the trees around them. She hadn’t heard them coming. They were well prepared for her feeble protection spells, in fact they’d expected something stronger; there was no way those weak charms would keep them out and very doubtful they would ward off a Kasadow, either. Perhaps the witch had become complacent, or perhaps she just wasn’t a very good witch. They had taken her by surprise and yet she hadn’t seemed surprised. There had been a look in her eye as though she’d been expecting them, which was impossible. No-one ever saw them coming. He glanced at his brother. Hedrek was looking relaxed. He was still cleaning the sword, but his eyes were now watching the flames. Caden rose and began to move about the room. Dry plants hung from the beams on the ceiling and there were various jars and concoctions dotted about. It was a typical witch’s kitchen. He left his brother sitting by the fire and began to make his way around the house. It was up to Caden to search for anything of value, anything that could make them money. They would even sell some of her potions. They despised witches and the idea of profiting from their unnatural ways sometimes balked him, but they had to make money somehow, now the Kevrinek Hus was no longer paying them for their services. In the bedroom, he found a trunk full of papers and began to rifle through them. He scowled when he thought of the Kevrinek Hus. Had they not hired them to kill witches? And now suddenly their work was distasteful? He wouldn’t rest until all the witches were slain and he didn’t mind killing those that stood in his way. Anyone who protected witches deserved to die. There weren’t many people who could better a witch. When the Kevrinek Hus had a witch problem, he and his brother were the only people they could call on. Who else could break a witch’s protection spells, immobilise her powers and slit her throat? The Kevrinek Hus would come crawling back to them at some point. They always did. A bunch of papers caught his eye. It appeared to be a diary. On one of the pages she had written: I am prepared to die. My coven are gone and I am ready to join them. If the Creature doesn’t find me, I know the Hunters will. Perhaps that explained the weak protection spells cast over the house. The witch had wanted to die. He frowned as he read the top line on the next page. My death shall be for a greater good. By my death more witches shall live. He continued to read and his frown turned into a look of horror. He jumped to his feet and, as he did so, his head began to spin. They had underestimated the witch. He tried to run to his brother, but suddenly, his vision was full of shadows and the walls seemed to be closing in on him. When he reached the stairs, his legs gave way, and he went crashing down to the hallway below. From there, he managed to drag himself towards the kitchen. “We need to get out, Hedrek! There is a spell on the house!” There was no answer and he found his brother lying motionless on the stone floor. Caden struggled furiously against the encroaching darkness, before succumbing and closing his eyes. They would not open again for five hundred years.