The White City

Chapter 6

Raziel sat on the first bench in the long row. He leaned back, his head tilted to look up into the patterned ceiling. He traced the curves with his eyes. Pablo and his father were discussing the recent events close to the alter. Raziel had let the sound of their argument out, however, as they mentioned the girl, Raziel came to life.

He let his eyes wander to were Pablo and the king stood. “I will not tolerate this form of terror in my kingdom.” The king lifted his hands in the air. His cape swayed around his legs as he wandered back and forth.

“I understand, my lord.” The second pastor had his hands clasped together in front of him. His fingers pointed up towards his god. “Your soldiers are hunting the witch down as we speak.”

“She’s a magician.” Raziel had let the words slip without much thought. The word witch didn’t sit right with him. It brought something dirty to people’s minds. He didn't want his father or anyone to associate the girl with that.

“I beg your pardon, my prince.” The second pastor, as well as the king, had turned all of their attention towards the young prince. He kept tracing the patterns of the ceiling with his eyes.

“An individual practicing magic is referred to as a magician,” Raziel said.

Pablo cleared his throat, his eyes taking a glance back at the king. “The dictionary refers to them as magicians, but believe me, young prince, they are only to be thought of as witches and warlocks. They do only roam this earth to defy us, the mundane, and defy the rightful god. This city will not bow down to their customs and be terrorized by the magic they wield. You saw how the girl fired at our soldiers.”

Raziel stood and was about to open his mouth when his father lifted his hand. The silence was as pure as the wintry blanket outside. Raziel scanned his father's face for something. He found nothing.

“This girl is to die, Raziel. For the safety of our kingdom, we must kill this being. I advise you to run or call for help if you meet her again. Can I count on you?” The king stepped forward. One step after the other he neared his son who stood without moving an inch. The king let a hand fall upon the shoulder of his son. It was heavy. For Raziel, it was the weight of the entire city resting on his shoulder. “Can I count on you?”

“Of course, my king.” Raziel brushed off the heavy hand. It fell back along the sides of the king. Raziel held eye contact with his father as he bowed down to show his respect. With one last glance, he left the church to go to his home.

At his own small home, Raziel sat in his lounge, reading a book. His focus was nowhere near the words which he read. A pair of blue eyes was all he could register. Somehow, he knew that this girl meant something special to him. His eyes wandered down to his hands. They clenched around the edges of his book. He could still imagine the sparks which her presence brought.

He put the book down beside him and sat up straight. In front of him, he held out both his hands. He twisted his palms towards the sky. He let a huge amount of air float in through his nose and let it out again through his mouth. The muscles in his body relaxed. His mind was solely focused on bringing back those sparks. He imagined their light, felt their heat, however, it was as if someone had turned a switch off. The powers had disappeared from his grip as the girl had.

“Bloody hell.” He leaped from the lounge and threw his hands in the air.

He moved towards the window displaying the street. Outside a group of guards ran past him, yelling out for the people to get out of their way.

Back at the small cottage, a few miles from prince Raziel’s home, Laylah held her breath. She pressed herself tight up against the back of the closet. The old hag had welcomed them into his home, assuring he knew nothing of a dangerous witch.

“Search every room!” The command came from the hideous man who almost had taken Laylah’s life. Laylah stiffened. She moved the dark clothing to cover her trembling frame as much as possible. The fear twisted around her body as a thick blanket and tightened its grip harder and harder. It got difficult to breathe. Her hands, sweaty and weak, folded into fists by her hips. A solider thrust the door to the room open with a swoosh. His footfalls were heavy as he marched inside dressed in heavy armor. From his body radiated the heavy aroma of sweat and dirt. It swayed through the air and ended inside the closet. 

She held her breath, not letting a single piece of noise leave her. The guard waltzed around in the room. He messed the bed and fell on his knees to look under it, but could see no magician. However, he then adverted his gaze towards the human-sized closet. At that same moment, it was if a gush of cold air blew past Laylah’s ear. She shivered, drawing in a sharp breath. Goosebumps ran up along her arms and back.

The guard lifted himself up upon his own two feet. He marched over to the closet. Every step was heavy against the stone floor and rung out through the room.

The fear once again found Laylah and settled. It called for her legs to go weak and heart to ache. Fear was something her mother told her to overcome. However, she could always hear its crackling voice.

The guard laid a hand on the closet and pulled outwards. Laylah prepared herself. She inclined her head backward, resting it against the back. She let her eyes close. She had given up on the magic to save her. It was as gone in her palms. At that moment she needed a miracle. For the first time, she found herself to be praying, however, not to the god the others did. “Please, if the element gods exist, let them salvage one of their daughters.” She let her gaze turn upwards, though she was only met with more darkness. “Please.” 

The guard didn’t come far. As he pulled in the closet doors he didn’t get far. Somehow they had become sealed. He pulled another time with more force but with the same result. The closet wouldn’t budge. The soldier only fought harder and Laylah pressed herself as far away from him as possible. 

Outside the closet, the guard kept on fighting against the stubbornness of the closet. A single drop of sweat tickled his chin as he kept pulling and pulling.

The old hag moved to stand in the door opening. “I am truly sorry, noble soldier. That closet has not been opened in over a decade!” The old man lifted his hands in the air, shaking his head with a little smile. “Quite the inconvenience don’t you think?”

The guard stepped away from the closet, brushing off the dirt on his uniform there wasn’t there. His eyes took ahold of the old man. “Indeed.” The guard stepped closer to the man and brushed him aside to walk into the living room. His comrade was ready for his status. “Noh witch in this hice. We shall proceed.”’

The soldiers did not take long to empty out the small cottage and leave the old man standing in the doorway alone. He kept his eyes on the soldiers until it wasn’t possible anymore. He let his door close and returned to free Laylah from the closet. Her body was still trembling, and she had a hard time breathing. The closets walls crept closer and closer towards her. She gripped the doors to let herself out but found herself trapped inside. She shook the doors again in a wild attempt to escape, but she had as much luck as the soldiers. However, the old hag came to her rescue. He gripped the handles and calmly swung the closet open.

Laylah sighed, the light spreading over her cold and pale skin. She leaped out and swung her arms around the old hag. “Thank you,” she said, giving him a light squeeze as a tear escape one of her eyes.

The old man let a hand rest on her back, welcoming her into his warmth. “It will be okay, my girl. They didn’t get you this time.”

He let a slight smile form on his lips as he gazed out the window, noticing the light stream of water escaping a tiny hole.