The Last Witch Princess

Chapter 3

    “What, what is going on?” I called out. Instantly Ana fell to her knees, laying down in the middle area between our benches, and reached up. I was too startled to stop her as she grabbed my shoulder roughly, yanking me down with her. The very spot I was in a sword was pierced through, and before I could gasp Ana was covering my mouth with her hand. 

    “Watch where you’re stabbing, that could have been the wagon the princess is in!” a man’s voice called out. I didn’t recognize it. 

    “Then maybe you shouldn’t have stood there against the wagon!” Came a voice I faintly recognized as the man Ana was talking to earlier. The stranger didn’t like that answer and the sound of steel with steel continued, making me realize the battle was happening all over the road. How many men were out there?

    I could feel my hot tears against my cheeks as Ana shivered against me, both of us afraid. I could hear the splintering of the wooden wagon next to us, the one in the back of the line, and the sounds of grunts as bodies fell around us. Were we winning? Were we losing? The door was ripped off of the wagon we were in and both of us screamed against our hands, staring into the eyes of a wild man. He was the color of midnight and covered in dirt and mud, a camouflage most likely so they were seen at the last minute. Everything about him screamed the forest. He had sticks and leaves woven into the thick braids in his hair and the spear in his hand was covered in dripping blood. He had opened his mouth, maybe to call out to the others he had found us when a sword was run straight through his body. I screamed against my hand again as I watched the blood pouring from his stomach, splattering on my face and my hair as the one behind him pulled his sword out. The stranger fell to his knees and then to his face, revealing one of the warriors who was defending us. He was motioning for us to follow him and we crawled out of the wagon, only to cry in despair as a spear was flung into his eye right in front of us.

    I shrieked as Ana pulled me under the wagon, and we crawled through the dusty road to hide between the wheels. The wagon was too low for us to see much, but we could see the number of dead bodies scattered around us and we could see the feet of the men surrounding us. Ana was muttering the word “Rogues” Under her breath, and I gasped as I stared at the bodies. These were rogues? Why were they attacking us? Why did they want to get to me? Did they want to take me alive for themselves, or did they want to kill me? 

    Laying under this wagon on my stomach made me remember all the times' someone was caught trying to murder me in the past. Being the last witch, I was sought after by so many, but there were so many that wanted me dead as well. They were jealous of my power like Belinda was, and they either wanted to try and kill me to take it for themselves or they wanted me dead because they hated witches and wanted to make sure we were extinct once and for all. Those who sought after me were filled with ridiculous ideas, like the werewolf king who wanted to marry me on my eighteenth birthday to have me shift for the first time in front of everyone. I didn’t know what I would be, shifters could turn into anything, but he was so certain I would shift into a white wolf and that we would give birth to strong magical offspring wolves. It didn’t work like that, but no one could convince him otherwise. 

    I screamed as another body fell, their glassy eyes staring at us from the side of the wagon as I tried to roll over and look away. Another pair of eyes were looking at us, eyes of a dying man who was holding out his hand and moaning, trying to get us to help him. I reached out my hand to touch him, not caring if he was the enemy or the ally at this point, just wanting to stop his suffering with my magic, but before I could he was dragged away. I could hear his screams as he was stabbed over and over again with the spear, his blood slowly pooling on the ground and trickling into the lowered area we were resting. I gagged at the coppery smell and closed my eyes, wishing it was all over soon. 

    I could hear little snatches of conversations with the grunts and the slap of the steel on steel, the wolves and the strangers antagonizing each other with just as much anger as there was amusement. Were the wolves enjoying this battle? I knew they were ruthless fighters, their love for the battle rumored as the most bloodthirsty of all, but this was disgusting. I could feel the front of my dress slicken with the blood of the men around us, and I couldn’t help but gag again as I felt it soak into the beautiful white material. This dress was ruined now, I did not doubt that, and It saddened me to know the servants' countless hours of hard work was for naught. 

    Soon, after what felt like hours, there was only one battle at the front of the wagons and I could hear the snarls of a wolf. The last one standing, Ana whispered to me that it sounded like the Beta, must have turned into a wolf to fight the others. It led me to lock my jaw shut or else the string of questions in my head would pop out, and now wasn’t the time to ask Ana if a werewolf rips their cloth when they turn as shifters do, or if they’re stronger in their wolf form than in their human form. Ana was shaking and I had a hand on her back, keeping up the steady warmth through her with my magic. I wished I was stronger, I wished I knew more, but I was sadly untrained and could only perform small tasks. Heat, water, healing, and so on. I read stories of witches throwing energy balls at enemies, teleporting, mind manipulation, but I couldn’t figure out how to do it myself. The only other time I’ve ever been able to do anything big was at the funeral when I tripped and fell into the hole they had dug for the casket. 

    I had panicked and screamed, and eventually, I was able to teleport myself out of the hole into my father’s hands. Everyone had seen me do it, and the fact that I was still glowing purple even in my father’s arms meant I had magic. Finally, the battle was over, and the sounds of laughing and congratulating were all around us. I did a quick count of all the dead men on the ground and realized there were so many more of the wolves than of the strangers. What did this mean? I was starting to hyperventilate as we heard them tearing apart the last wagon, searching through the trunks, and commenting on my frivolous dresses. 

    “Really, how spoiled is this girl? Why does she need all these dresses?” Someone said. I was surprised to hear the voice of a woman, wondering if she was fighting or if she had been waiting in the woods for the fight to be over. Did rogue women fight as well? What kind of savagery was that? In my kingdom, there was only ever one case of a woman fighting. Her husband had died and she was a single mother of twin infants. A burglar had broken into her home to rob her, thinking she was weak because her husband was dead. She had shifted into a tiger and ate the robber to protect her children. She wasn’t punished for fighting or killing the man, but she was also never wed because the men would make fun of her. Calling her too strong for her own good, and joking that if they upset her she’d eat them too. 

    “Just leave them, they’re worthless. Don’t throw them on the ground she’ll probably need some of her clothes to wear. Grab whatever pants you can find and look for a sturdy pair of boots.” A quiet voice said. It startled me, how in the middle of all this chaos, this voice was able to sound so calm and collected, almost uncaring. I scoffed at his suggestion. Pants? Women didn’t wear pants, how ridiculous. And comfortable boots? What did he take me for?

    “You four, check the first wagon. Gather the food and supplies from it. You five, search the last wagon. Actually, take all of the dresses, we can sell the unnecessary ones for money or make rags out of the materials. Don’t waste or throw away anything. Get it all packed up on the horse.” The calm voice said again. I could hear the authority in his voice and wondered if he was in charge of all of them. He sounded very young, around my age. How could he lead this attack at such a young age? 

    I looked over at Ana and she was staring at me with wide eyes, both of us afraid as we heard the crunching of boots coming closer to us. The wagon shifted above us and the seats we were on were opened and closed, the items stored inside thrown out in front of our faces. The jug of water crashed into the nearby tree as the man searching the wagon yelled we weren’t in there, and I ended up being the one to betray our location. I gasped loudly from the crash of the water jar, a glass shard hitting Ana in the face and making her whimper quietly against the pain, a thin stream of blood dripping down her cheek. Before I could reach out my hand to heal her rough hands were gripping my ankles and yanking me backward. Ana was yanked out as well, and both of us tried our best to keep our dresses down so we didn’t expose ourselves to strangers. “Well now, it looks like we found our princess!” the man holding my ankles said. He let one of them go and grinned at me. Furry raced through me as I stared at his face, and before I knew it I had lifted my foot, slamming it into his face with a scream. He fell backward and roared in pain, angry cuss words screamed into the air. I jumped to my feet and glared at the man holding Ana. He backed away with his hands in the air, a hint of a smile on his face as I helped her to her feet. 

    After the pause, the group of strange dirt-covered men busts out laughing around us, all of them except one. This one was just as tall as the others, just as muscular. Nothing made him stand out from them except for his eyes, the color of amber. It was a peculiar color, not one I had ever seen before. What drew me to look at him was the way everyone paused when he was close, how they shifted towards him and instantly quieted down in his presence. He was younger than most of them but I could feel his authority over them calming the area around us, and soon he was walking up to the man I had kicked and was leaning over him. “Can you stand?” He asked quietly. He was the one I had heard earlier with a calm voice, the one who was commanding the others. 

    The wailing man quieted down and stood, holding his hand over his mouth as he glared at me, blood seeping from the cracks in between his fingers. The amber eyes man turned to look at me, sighing. “Was that really necessary?” he asked quietly. I stared at him strangely, deciding I didn’t need to answer his strange question, and turned to Ana. Before she could say anything I had pressed my finger against her cut, watching the light purple race up my arm to my fingertips as her wound slowly healed and faded, not even leaving behind a scar. 

    I ignored the gasps of the men around me and stared at the amber-eyed man with a challenge in my eyes. “I could heal him if you wanted me to, but I refuse to help a murderer.” I declared to him. 

    The angry man glared at me more, muttering something about refusing my help anyway with his blood flying out of his mouth and down his shirt. The amber-eyed man muttered to the man near him, saying things I could barely hear. Something about keeping the extra woman to take care of the princess, and the words knock and out floated to me. Before I could string the words together I felt a sickening blow to the back of my head, and then everything went dark.