The First Dark Witch

Chapter 4 - The Blacksmith

Chapter IV - The Blacksmith

Lenora traveled lightly. She was the kind of witch who was particular with where she performed her rituals and spells. The seclusion of the forest was far more appealing than the attic of Grandmother Rawena’s home. Placing the satchel over one shoulder while scooping her long black hair away from the strap, she began to set out for her first summoning. The term “traveling light” was dependent on every individual. To her, she at least left her cast iron cauldron behind in order to trudge swiftly through The Cantermar Woods. She still carried a heavy sack of protection salt, candles, and fresh paint. On her other shoulder rested her bow and quiver which had carried ten arrows in the event that she ran into trouble before arriving at her destination. Where her destination was exactly, she didn’t know. The notion filled her with excitement.

On the outskirts of Liriel, passing large garden clearings, she kept moving. Her hair was worn half up in a fishtail braid as the other half hung loosely and danced with every hastened step she took. She had left a note on Grandmother Rawena’s bed to remind the elderly woman to not fear and that she’d be back in Liriel sometime in the morning. If she had run into her grandmother before departing, she would’ve insisted on cleansing Lenora. To which Lenora would have waved her off, the process being too lengthy of a ritual. A note was much more practical for Lenora’s timeframe.

There was one final home and shoppe that she passed before entering the eerie woods which had surrounded Liriel’s borders. Protection runes were carved on archways above the roads which led outside of their village. Just before stepping on the other side of the tall wooden archway, outside of Liriel’s safety, Lenora paused and glanced over at the cottage to her right. The blacksmith shoppe. Hesitating on her journey, she battled internally on whether or not she should stop in to say a quick hello. It was never just a quick hello, Lenora chided herself.

She supposed that she could simply make time to drop in. After all, it was only mid-afternoon. The night would still be young by the time that she reached a land where she had never been. There was plenty of time to explore beyond her furthest expeditions. 

Staring at the shoppe, Lenora drew out an exasperated breath and gave into temptation. Lenora scolded herself as she walked the steps that led to the blacksmith shoppe. Unable to practice the necessary restraint to simply keep walking, she stared down at the stone walkway in shame, knowing full well that whatever reasoning she’d give herself was never truly her intention in the first place. Mystic practices aside, witches were still essentially human.

A family of customers walked out of the shoppe just as she stepped inside. Burning steel caught her nose, it’s distinctive smell wafted in the air alongside fire and brimstone. The bashing of iron on iron clanked rhythmically followed by an earsplitting hiss as whatever burning object was set within water to cool off. The blacksmith sang to himself, making Lenora smile.

“I’m just about to close for the day,” Daren’s voice rang out on the other side, “Come back in the morning.”

Lenora poked her head from the corner that separated her view from where Daren stood beside the forge, his back turned away. “No, I’d much prefer to come now,” she joked.

With a sharp inhale, Daren lost hold of his hammer and accidentally dropped it on his boot. Lenora made a face as he hopped several times and listened to Daren curse aloud. Regardless of his pained disposition, he turned to face her and smiled warmly. She returned a grin, albeit smug to match his evident delight upon seeing her.

“You, little vixen, have some nerve coming here,” Daren teased, strolling up to her slowly as he ran a hand through his sandy blond hair. His moves were calculating as Lenora eyed him up and down playfully.

“If you want me to leave, I can,” Lenora reasoned, her tone feigning innocence, “I was under the impression that you weren’t done with me quite yet.”

Daren’s face scrunched amusingly and shook his head. “I was under the impression that after the last time you visited that you weren’t going to wait three more months to come see me again.”

“I have a door to knock on too, you know,” Lenora defended, “Liriel is a small village, I don’t live that far away. And why am I always the one to seek you out?”

“So…,” he began once directly in front of her. He then got a look of the satchel and bow strapped to her shoulders, “Going to perform another ritual, I see.”

“Yes,” Lenora answered, glancing up to him with downcast eyes, “I really should be leaving soon, I’m afraid.” She stopped as Daren reached for the bow and quiver and lifted them off her shoulder. Lenora fought back a grin and continued in the attempt to make conversation. All the while her insides began to squeeze with anticipation. She wasn’t strong enough to refuse.

Daren then removed her satchel and gently placed it on the floor. Standing straight, he brushed  her hair behind one shoulder then lightly traced his thumb against the neckline of her dress just below her collarbone. With his other hand, he began to fiddle with the strings of her corset. His green eyes stared into hers with his own intentions clear. Meeting his gaze, Lenora gave Daren a close-lipped smile.

For extra measure, Lenora grabbed a wooden plank that had been propped beside the front entrance, shut the door, and placed the plank through both latches to lock the shoppe up for the day. As she waltzed confidently towards Daren’s living quarters within the shoppe, she heard Daren quickly squelch the fire within the forge. His pace hastened more when he saw Lenora remove her clothing: first her cloak, her skirt, and then her corset. As she began to lift the shift over her head, Daren’s bare body collided against her backside, kissing the side of her neck as he obliged in lifting the last item of clothing from her person. His fingers grazed her thigh before grabbing hold of the white cloth as he pulled it upward over her head, exposing more and more of her with every tug. With her breath sharpening, she turned around to face him and once her shift had fallen to the ground, he lifted her off her feet and carried her to his straw mattress in the corner of his small, neatly kept bedroom. They kissed another deeply as Lenora let her hands wrap around his broad shoulders as his arms grasped her around the waist and under her rear.

Daren laid her on the straw mattress, pressing his body against hers. Lenora wrapped her legs around him while he situated himself inside of her. She began panting with every thrust going deeper than the last, spreading her legs wider to let him enter further.

Lenora could describe Daren’s love making as a gratifying form of pleasure. He aimed to satisfy and had accomplished meeting Lenora’s needs every time that they had encountered one another. They had built a familiarity with one another for nearly eight years. Curiosity and compulsions lead them coming back for more after years of using the other as practice. She felt guilty for sometimes feeling like it had begun to resemble a business ordeal. Love had little to do with their explorations. It had everything to do with fighting boredom and satisfying their own carnal needs.

She could feel his urgency as he pressed on. He quickened his thrusts which in turn made her moan louder. Clinging to the muscles on his arms with one hand, Lenora held the bed frame above her head with the other. His muscles tensed as a sign that he was near completion. By the time Lenora was about to reach her own climax, he pulled out and began to groan deeply. Lenora looked at the ceiling as he continued to finish outside of her. Optimistic at heart, she at least garnered some enjoyment out of their rendezvous. She wasn’t finished but she supposed she couldn’t be too critical.

...

“Tell me about this ritual that you are performing tonight,” Daren inquired as he buttoned his pants. 

She looked at him curiously while drawing her corset strings. “You never cared to ask about my rituals before.”

“Is it too late to be curious now?” Daren inquired and shrugged once his pants were fastened. He feigned casualness and watched her in admiration as she finished dressing. “Don’t worry, I’m not asking for the sake of spreading it around Liriel, Lenora. I just want to know.”

His statement irked her. Not because he was out of line. It was because he revealed much more about her than she thought he knew. Daren’s interest in her affairs crossed a barrier that made her feel awkward.

“Fine,” she replied while tying her lace at the bottom. Once secured, she placed her hands on her hips and stared down Daren one last time before inviting him into a more personal part of her life. He watched her hesitate, smiling mischievously. “I am summoning my own familiar.”

He blinked a few times, not believing her words. “Only a handful of people have familiars in Liriel.”

“And?” Lenora questioned back while going to retrieve her belongings that still sat on the floor of his shoppe.

“Do you not feel that practice is too difficult? Even for you?” Daren chastised.

Lenora’s eyes widened while placing her cloak over her shoulders again. “I appreciate the support, I guess?”

“I might not be the most sufficient warlock in the village,” Daren began, “But I, at least, know my limitations.”

That much was true. The most that Lenora saw Daren do was enchanting a few inanimate objects in his shoppe. Truthfully, her ego felt bruised at his doubt in her capabilities. What right did he have to belittle her?

“I know my limitations haven’t been reached yet, Daren,” Lenora answered quietly, feeling much smaller than when she had entered his home. She began to doubt herself, wondering if traveling into the forest would be a waste. Hardening her resolve, she looked up at him sternly and thinned her eyes. “Yes. I stand by that. Good day to you.” Grabbing her satchel, bow, and quiver, she stalked past him. For added effect, she watched as Daren witnessed the wooden plank levitate from the lock and door. As the door opened as if by itself, he looked at her in astonishment as she stepped outside in a huff.

“You’ll only be disappointed, Lenora Nettle!” Daren exclaimed behind her, “Just you wait!”

“Just you wait,” Lenora muttered to herself while crossing the border of Liriel and into the woods. With a fire and a determination, she began her quest to prove everyone in Liriel wrong. Whether they believed her to be a simpleton or too much of a threat, she was going to prove them all wrong to let them know that she was neither. She was Lenora Nettle.

And Lenora Nettle had a banshee to silence and a wrath in her heart to exhaust.

...

She wasn’t entirely without supplies for her trip aside from what was needed for the summoning. Also in her satchel included a grimoire, an athame, and some food for the journey. She sang the same tune that her grandmother had sung earlier that morning. “Oh, thine eyes before were blinking, when you saw that handsome fae. ‘Tis his hair dark red and his eyes light green and he danced by the water bay. Oh, I want to dance and fly up high where the fairy king resides. He’d take my hand and hold me tight as we sailed above the tides.”

Retrieving her lantern, she whispered near the already inserted candle’s wick as it ignited from her words. The forest was growing dark as night approached. Looking around, the forest was quiet. Peaceful. Here, no one was able to criticize her very existence. She kept her sights on her surroundings regardless of the peace it brought. The Cantermar Woods were still dangerous. She had gone off the beaten path nearly a mile outside of Liriel, stepping over tree roots and rocks instead. This is something that had been familiar for most of the green witches in their coven. She wasn’t the only one to appreciate the nature surrounding her village. The natural beauty of the numberless plants brought everyone in Liriel desired peace. For Lenora, she felt it did much more than that for her. It also provided freedom.

She had a knack for knowing where she was and had always been able to find Liriel from her various adventures. Making sure to stay on a path that was familiar, she walked along certain landmarks that had once sparked her eye. Two intertwined willow trees. A stone trench where the temperature dropped several degrees when you walked in between them. A meadow with red flowers. These were all spots where she had been before. In each place she had felt prompted to perform a spell, finding beauty in their unique settings. At last, she came upon the furthest site that she had ever traveled - a tucked away waterfall and small creek. She stopped to take a breather, pulling out her waterskin for her parched throat. She only stopped for a moment though as dusk’s light was quickly dissipating beyond their world’s horizon. With her waterskin in one hand, her lantern in another, she walked along the creek’s edge until she found large rocks protruding from underneath the water’s surface. Hopping from one stepping stone to another, she jumped onto soil on the other side of the brook. The spot on which she stood was now new and uncharted territory for her. Turning around and peering into the undiscovered forest, she walked with a skip in her step, ready for the unfamiliar and the astonishment that came with it.

Lenora thought about the summoning as she kept a wary eye on her surroundings. What would her familiar be? What Daren said was true in that there were only a few Liriel witches who were able to conjure enough power and energy to summon their own familiars. She needed a mighty familiar for whatever the future held and whatever the banshee was warning about. If there was something within that felt anger, perhaps it was a spirit that could seek to understand her. Maybe the spirit would be sent to ground her in a sense and provide her peace within the confines of her village. Maybe that was most needed of her familiar. In any case, she was determined to be strong enough to summon one. If anything, just to prove Daren wrong.

She stumbled upon the first landmark that she could mark just beyond the creek and waterfall. Strange, she thought as she looked at the lone statue ruin surrounded by trees. What could a gargoyle be protecting in these woods?

Stepping closer to the statue, she held up her lantern in the dim light. She had never seen one before and had often wondered if the legends had been true about such creatures. From what her studies had taught, gargoyles were guardians of their world. They protected it from dark spirits, sleeping for centuries if left undisturbed by its surroundings. She studied the features, wondering if it truly came to life when faced by a threat or if it was all an old myth passed on from generation to generation. He didn’t appear as grotesque as the descriptions in her books had illustrated. He appeared to be like any other man. A warrior, she supposed. Larger than most beings in Liriel, that was for certain. His wings spanned from the ground at their feet and peaked just over his head with claw-like hooks at the topmost edge. His head had no horns like she thought gargoyles had and his face didn’t seem too far off from what the townsfolk of Liriel looked like. Perhaps it wasn’t a gargoyle then, she thought as she removed an old bird’s nest from the crook of the statue’s neck.

Giving it one more glance before drawing her attention elsewhere, she looked around them and saw the small clearing in front of the gargoyle’s secluded spot of rest. Nodding to herself, she leaned against the statue and took another drink from the waterskin. “Well, this seems like no better place than to summon a familiar,” she muttered to herself and even the statue as he appeared like he was a good listener. “Time to make some magic.”