The First Dark Witch

Chapter 9 - The Undead

Chapter IX - The Undead

After shooting him a cold glance, she watched as his gaze turned up to overlook the approaching sunrise. She then assumed it was to give her some privacy, her eyes peering downward to view her unclothed body. “Oh,” she muttered. Pulling the shift on, she tugged it downward. Once situated, she debated standing there to listen to what Abaddon had to say. Instead, she decided against his wishes and turned on her heel to limp away towards Liriel, favoring the leg that had been cut by Abaddon the night prior.

She made it all of ten steps before the gargoyle broke his concentration away from the morning rays. “I said that we need to talk,” Abaddon called from the top of the boulder.

“Do I have to adhere to your commands?” Lenora questioned, not turning back as she continued walking, “You spared my life and for that I’m grateful but--”

“This is your gratitude?” Abaddon spat out, his voice directly behind her. She jumped and turned to see that he had already flown from the boulder to stand just next to her. Lenora would have lied if she said she didn’t cower at the sight of his wings unfurled with such close proximity to her. It was intimidating but she wouldn’t allow herself to visibly be daunted. She stood her ground and stared at him menacingly as his expression reflected hers. His wild, silver eyes scowled at the impertinence that she was in his life. “I am an archangel to the gods. Know who you speak to.”

“You’re a gargoyle who had his sleep disturbed,” Lenora corrected, trying to dig her heel into an earlier conversation that they had before, “If you’re throwing your title granted to you by the gods, then do their bidding instead of ignoring your obligations for centuries while hiding out in the Cantermar Woods.”

Abaddon grabbed her arm and yanked her back. Her hand flew to his cheek as she slapped him across the face. He didn’t even so much as flinch from her form of abuse. Only several blinks of surprise from the act itself. He attempted to reach for her shoulders this time, Lenora kneeing him in the groin. That got a reaction as he hunched over and groaned from the pain. He released her, giving Lenora the freedom to walk her merry way again.

“You’re trying my patience, woman,” Abaddon growled.

“If I’m going to be guarded by you for my entire life, against my will, I’ll treat your trespasses in a way I see fit!” Lenora called behind her with hands folded over her chest, tears rolling down her eyes. With one more stomp, she stumbled. A pain shot up the ball of her foot. Daring to glance down from the immediate throb, she saw that a thorn had impaled through her bare appendage. Lenora let out a frustrated whine but attempting to appear more confident, she walked onto the side of her foot, now limping with both her right and left limbs. The bottom of the thorn still scraped the ground with every step forward. She couldn’t help but shriek.

“Fine!” Lenora then taunted, her voice breaking, knowing that Abaddon was watching her mortality in amusement, “Tell me I’m some useless being who doesn’t deserve your caretaking.” She turned to face him simply to confirm his reaction, careful to not irritate her foot in the process. When she saw him, her face paled. Abaddon wasn’t looking at her. His eyes followed something within the forest. Eyes that were once silver, now were all black. The same chill that she felt in her nightmares returned. She watched his hands transform to larger claws in a quiet metamorphosis. Two curved and jaded horns the size of her athame grew out of his temples. His features slowly molded to appear less human to a more grotesque and threatening being. She stopped breathing. Had she not injured her foot, she would have run. Her heart beat as she stood at the mercy of someone that truly embodied the name destruction.

“They’re here,” he said, his voice raising the hairs on her arms. His neck slowly craned as his eyes continued hunting.

“Who’s here?” Lenora whispered. Her legs began to shake from the tonal shift within the forest, “What’s happening?”

“I’m not the only one who has been awoken by your scent,” Abaddon revealed. His neck then stopped craning and as his eyes were fixed on something within her proximity. She couldn’t tell if he was focused on her or something behind her. She couldn’t tell which one frightened her more - his wrath or an unknown beast behind her that she was not yet able to see. “On my command, Lenora, get down to the ground. Understand?”

She nodded, instinct telling her that to disobey him possibly meant sudden death.

Abaddon unsheathed his silver sword slowly. She shook at the knowledge that she had neither bow or athame at her disposal. She did have some protection spells memorized at heart. That was all she could do in order to survive the danger that had now surrounded them. She couldn’t hear them. She couldn’t see them. But at that moment, for the first time since they met, she had to trust that Abaddon was on her side.

A twig snapped in the woods behind her. Before she could even recoil from the noise, Abaddon clutched his sword with both hands and crouched down to the ground. “Get down!” Abaddon shouted. Immediately, she dropped to the forest floor with eyes closed. She felt part of Abaddon’s wing brush roughly against her body as it toppled her over minorly from the collision. He had flown over her as she turned her body to view what was occurring. Abaddon was at war with a creature Lenora had never seen before. With wide eyes, she witnessed Abaddon thrust his sword down the beast’s throat then yank with his claws on the sadistic being’s jaw. Without much effort, Abaddon successfully split the being in two from skull to ribcage, blood spattering every which way from the action.

In a flash, Lenora saw more movement surrounding them. Liriel. It had to have only been less than two kilometers from where she laid. Just as her thoughts shifted to escape, she glanced up to Abaddon battling three other creatures at once. Whatever they were, they had the ability to stand on two legs or crouch animalistically on all fours. One jumped onto the back of the gargoyle, gnawing onto the base of Abaddon’s neck. He yelled thunderously and tore the monstrous beast off with one hand as his claws perforated its flesh, throwing it toward two other’s at his side. “Run!” He commanded as he twisted his sword in and out of one with a loud s***h and immediately beheaded the body of another in one fell swoop.

Lenora kicked up her feet, limping her way several meters before stumbling from the thorn in her foot. As soon as her chest hit the ground, a hand pulled on her wounded leg and dragged her backward, its own claws pressing into her day-old lacerations. With a turn of her body and a quick, distressed chant in Lirien, she put the heel of her palms together, thrust her arms towards whatever had yanked her and shouted out the first protection spell that came to mind. Once turned, she saw clearly one of the enemies that had befallen them. The gangly creature - much like her nuckelavee - had no skin to cover its bones and muscles. It’s face was long and wretched with glowing, yellow eyes. It had little time to react to the blue beam that projected out of Lenora’s palms as it was pushed backward by the force.

She crawled every limb she could use to get away from the danger and towards the protection of Liriel’s runes that had surrounded the border of her village. Upon seeing more distant movement in the forest, she hesitated. Glancing over to Abaddon again, more of those same creatures began to surround the gargoyle. He had managed to hold his own but something within her felt a sting of guilt at the thought of leaving him behind. With the thorn still protruding out of her foot, it was a fair assessment that sprinting for Liriel’s border was an impossibility.

Determined to assist the gargoyle, Lenora planted her two hands firmly on top of the ground beneath her and began to recite an older and more powerful language than that of Lirien. At first the words were a whisper which barely made a sound. She watched the forest being disturbed with branches being swept against in a frenzy. Repeating the words with more intensity, her head whipped around in a panic to look behind her and forwards. She watched her blindspots hurriedly, still reciting the ancient words to help both her and Abaddon who was being pushed back from the onslaught.

Her eyes closed. She allowed the energy of the words to span around her and beyond. The words began to echo and the ground began to quake underneath her. Lenora trusted in her personal strength after years of study in the old magic. Keeping her eyes shut, she finished the chant and braced for the extreme tremor that was about to occur. With a vicious and deafening crack, the ground shook with more intensity. Opening her eyes, she witnessed over a dozen creatures that were about to zero in on her position as they began to stumble upon themselves in an uncoordinated fashion from the upheaval beneath them. With the distraction to Abaddon’s advantage, he took one swing of his sword to six of the undead creatures’ chests that had surrounded him, all crouching forward from such a heavy blow. He stepped to the side and with all their necks exposed in a row, he raised his sword and sliced three necks, pushed those bodies back with his forearm and repeated the movement with the next three.

The ground continued to shake. Trees toppled. Budding leaves rattled. Rocks broke apart from the large boulder nearby. Lenora was in a state of shock and awe, too terrified to move by both the surrounding horror and the spell that continued its ferocity. It was a successful mode of safety but she felt herself losing control of the spell she had created. Let go of the ground, Lenora thought to herself. As the spell grew beyond her capabilities, she watched the earth blacken with rot, beginning around her and enlarging in size. Let go of the ground, Lenora urged herself again, watching as the infection of the earth began to rot at the nearer trees, the branches shriveling in haste. No grimoire had mentioned such a horrid side effect before. Her mind was at an impasse as to what she could do: either let go of the ground and presumably stop the impurities from spreading, or to continue so that the undead would stumble in their tracks.

As if the decision was made for her, Lenora felt herself lifted off the forest floor. Tossed over Abaddon’s shoulder, she was flown to safety. The sound of the earth moving had ceased. Rot had stopped its spread. Several of the undead that remained shrieked in protest from their quick departure. The lift from Abaddon’s flying made Lenora’s stomach feel light and she thought she would faint again. Her body tensed as she envisioned herself falling out of the gargoyle’s grasp and to her death, even though Abaddon kept low under the tree line and close to the ground. Lenora could only assume he did so for added cover, his moves swift as he veered to and fro around the foliage. She clung to him tightly, wrapping both arms around his shoulder blades. He was flying to the border of Liriel. They would be protected there.

With eyes closed tight for the rest of the flight, she continued to keep her grip fastened tightly. Feeling the wind against her skin, her body was too tense with adrenaline to be chilled by the frost of the air. Her stomach felt light again as Abaddon switched his direction of flight. Blood rushed to her head. She couldn’t take too much more of the rush that had ensued from such a sensation along with the brawl from earlier.

“Lenora,” Abaddon said. His voice remained its typical grunt, despite its undercurrent of softness that she heard upon him saying her name, “You can let go. We’re safe.”

She didn’t immediately obey, her body taking a moment to process what his words meant. Slowly, she felt herself release him as Abaddon gently guided her to her own two feet. Once her toes touched the ground, she inhaled sharply, Abaddon’s claws tightening around her waist while she lifted the foot with a thorn still on it. Lenora’s eyes watered. Abaddon lifted her up again to kneel and rest her body atop one of his thighs. Looking around, she recognized her surroundings to be the border of Liriel. It was a quiet and more secluded area of her village, nearby the top of the waterfall that was beside her home. Breathing a sigh of relief, her sighs fluttered with emotion. The nightmare, the nuckelavee, the ritual by the coven elders, the undead trying to kill her; it all culminated to this very moment as she unabashedly began to cry. Bringing her hands to her face, she wept while still sitting on Abaddon’s lap helplessly. She wasn’t scared of him regardless of his transformed and more sinister appearance. Instead, she could only feel the crushing reality that was her existence.

Abaddon, who she could feel breathing heavily from the chaos, waited patiently for her to regain some composure. The hand on her waist tightened its hold protectively whenever a sob had riddled throughout her whole body.

“What were those things?” She finally mustered up the ability to ask. Her body shook violently as the adrenaline slowly wore off.

“Minions,” Abaddon responded patiently. His voice trailed off as if deep in thought. Lenora took her palms from her face to see that his face slowly morphed back into the one that she had first become acquainted with. The claws retracted along with his horns. His face only inches away from hers turned to look at her after he surveyed the forest around them for good measure. “Are you alright?”

She was about to answer just as she felt her life begin to crumble. If she couldn’t exist in ignorance, then she had to live a life outside of such contentment. After the many days of torture, it was inevitable to look at a future encumbered by only anguish and despair.

“Lenora?” He asked again.

“Yes?” She answered, her voice hollow.

“Are you alright?”

She looked into his returned silver eyes, finding herself a mixture of emotions still, none of which were close to being alright. “I scarcely know.”

His hand reached for her wound, analyzing it with great care. “Allow me?” He asked as his fingers encased around the base of the thorn that protruded out the bottom of her foot. Taking a deep breath to brace for the pain, she nodded as he lightly tugged. She watched the sharp edge of the thorn sink from the top of her foot and felt relief. Abaddon tossed it away then ripped the hem of her shift with one hand to wrap it up before a healer would see to it later. She saw what he was capable of doing as he fought the dead, finding his touch to be a stark contrast to that of ripping a being practically in half. She shuddered at the image in her head as those same hands enclosed around her. “There,” he assured once he tied the linen snuggly around her foot. She saw sweat had dripped from his face as several strands of long, black hair clung to his skin. Drops of blood spattered on his person and Lenora’s eyes locked to the open gash on his neck.

“Abaddon,” Lenora breathed, “you’re hurt.”

“I’ll heal,” Abaddon gruffed, “It would have been far more disastrous if they bit you.” His hand quickly reached for her jaw, cupping her chin as he lifted her head to see if her neck had been marred. “Did they?”

“No,” Lenora replied. “Minions? Minions to whom?”

“I don’t know,” Abaddon admitted, “But three  things are certain. The first, whoever they are on an errand for, more will come. The second, whoever is hunting you down considers you an enemy and a threat.”

“And the third?” Lenora inquired.

“Whoever is an enemy to an army of the dead, is a friend of mine,” Abaddon confirmed. He stood up and positioned her to her feet, “Can you stand?”

“I think so,” Lenora said as she tried not to lean against Abaddon for help.

“I am sorry for cutting your leg open,” Abaddon admitted. She was shocked to hear him accept blame when he had earlier specified that he had no guilt on the matter.

Lenora’s nostrils flared, “Glad to see I’ve earned your trust.”

“I’ve been alive since the dawn of time, Lenora,” Abaddon began, “Forgive me, I’m not prone to being wrong on the sole instinct that I was given.” He paced, unsheathing his sword again so he could clean the blade before it rusted. “Moving forward, we must settle on some form of conclusion between us.”

“What have you concluded then?” Lenora inquired with a wince as she stepped about to gauge the severity of her fresh wound.

“A truce,” Abaddon settled, “Beyond me not killing you despite the blood that flows in your veins, I need something out of the bargain.”

“And that is?”

“Answers. I need you to discover who your father is, why the nuckelavee chose you, and what those minions could possibly achieve by hunting you down.”

Lenora leaned against a tree, feeling sweat drip from her own forehead as she wiped it away with her sleeve. “I’ll never get a life where I’m left alone, will I?”

“I believe that life was forfeited the moment you summoned the nuckelavee,” Abaddon hypothesized, cleaning his sword with nearby moss like he did the night prior.

“I did it to protect myself!” Lenora defended.

“Doesn’t matter why you did,” Abaddon argued, as he checked both sides of his sword to be sure of its cleanliness, “It matters only that you were successful in actually summoning a creature from the underworld. There are forces beyond your reckoning. By moral obligation, I can’t leave you based on good faith alone that you’ll remain blameless. I also can’t leave any stone left unturned. There is a shift in the Cantermar Woods that I must seek out and I need you to help me.”

Lenora thought about what he said, debating her options and the benefits to her. “If I help you, there has to be more in it for me than that.”

“I’m keeping you alive and protecting you from outside dangers. What else is there?”

She contemplated before speaking, wondering what she had wanted since the summoning had taken place, “When this is all said and done…” Lenora started, feeling winded by her mind and body, “Let’s say we find all solutions to my troubles and destroy whatever evil, as I’m sure that’s what your intentions are set on… Then after all is said and done, we’ll be back at the beginning: a life where I’m guarded by a gargoyle until I die of old age. You don’t want that. I don’t want that. So… you get to destroy whatever threat lies beyond our understanding - whatever it is. Once that happens, you and I part ways. Feel free to check in but at a distance where I don’t see you. Painless for both of us. But at least my assistance in the meantime will give my name some credit in your eyes where after a certain amount of time, I’ll build your trust so that I can live in peace. Do we have an agreement?”

Abaddon didn’t immediately respond. With his back facing her, she watched as he remained quiet. She entertained the idea that he was actually considering her offer. He turned to glance at her, seeing the plea in her eyes. He had already remarked that she was a friend if she were a natural enemy to another. Was it enough to garner some level of trust? “I agree to those terms.”

Lenora smiled. Extending her hand forward, he walked towards her to shake it as she lifted it up to not accept it, “Ah, ah, ah. Even though there are some who don’t consider me to be, I’m still Lirien. We settle these things with blood oaths.”

He rolled his eyes with a groan but took the sword in one hand to rest it’s sharp edge against his other palm. Slicing the skin, placed his bloodied palm underneath Lenora’s proffered hand to hold it steady as he did the same to her own palm. She winced as the silver sword cut through her lightly. Once it was finished, they shook hands, a brush of wind billowing from their palms, the strands of their hair flowing back and off their shoulders from the sudden jolt of energy.

“Alright,” Lenora said when the energy dissipated and their palms no longer touched, “Now it’s something we both can’t break.”

Abaddon gestured towards Liriel with a nod, “When do we get started?”