Lesson 34: Witherwitches Are the Worst

"Stand down, Fanna," Benedikt commanded. His voice shook with anger as she fixed him with a pitying pout. "You need to turn yourself in."

"You have no power over me," she said with a cackle. "The crown of Stalvart might fall to you, but not for long."

"What?" Benedikt exclaimed. "This is about the right to rule? How is cursing my father's scouts going to get you the crown?"

Fanna examined one of her curved nails for dirt that wasn't there. "They came snooping after a run-in with one of my creations. They had to be dealt with."

"You created the trolls? And the fellgrylls?" Benedikt asked.

Fanna replied with a shrug, but her answer was clear. Benedikt's anger grew. She was playing with them — like they didn't pose a threat to her at all. He kept one eye on Fanna and the other on Talitha who gave a shallow groan from across the room.

Fanna moved to the center of the chamber. "The scouts weren't part of my plan and to be quite candid, neither was this." She gestured to the Liberators with a flippant wave of her hand. "This place has become my sanctuary, and I counted on the superstitions of old to keep people away. Alas, here you are...but I suppose I could use a little excitement after the years I have spent playing nice as King Sander's emissary to the other kingdoms — getting shipped off to tiresome courts full of empty-headed nobles while he doted on you and groomed you to take his place."

Benedikt tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword and took a step toward Fanna. "Is this about my father's attention? Because in case you haven't noticed, he's shipped me off to the corners of our land to find my True Love regardless of what I have to say in the matter."

Fanna scoffed. "Don't be stupid. Your father is an old imbecile who can't recognize true talent when he sees it."

The Liberators followed Benedikt's lead and began to fan out around the room, trying to encircle their opponent.

"And I suppose you think you're talent?" Benedikt spat. "Practicing Withering Magic when no one's looking?"

Fanna scowled, obviously growing less amused by the minute. "Talent. Power. I have it all and the will to use it." Her voice lowered to a growl. "Three years away from home, Benny. While you have been running about kissing hopeless maiden after hopeless maiden, proving once and for all what a guileless sham of a prince you really are, I have been putting into motion the means to my ascent to the throne."

Fanna seemed to realize that night had fallen; with a snap of her fingers, glowing orbs flickered to life around them and floated up towards the ceiling. The pale blue lights cast ghastly shadows over her face.

"What do you think will happen now? King Sander is waiting for us in the mountains. He'll come looking for us if we don't return."

Fanna ran a long nail across her lower lip. "Hmmm," she mused. "Now this is a pleasant turn of events. People disappear in these mountains all the time. I had originally planned for the sleeping maidens to be your downfall, but I never believed you both could be so stupid as to wander this far from Stalvart."

Benedikt felt his breath leave his lungs. "The sleeping maidens?" he asked.

A knowing smirk spread over Fanna's features. "A sleeping curse of my very own invention...specially concocted so that the women would wake up to any True Love's Kiss but yours."

Benedikt's lips pulled back into a snarl. "You," he growled, unable to string together a coherent phrase. A part of him was relieved to know his failure was no longer his own fault — but now he'd found the cause of the humiliation and personal hell he had endured for three long years.

"Yes," Fanna sighed. "It's a shame. Such an elegant curse and in the end, I have to kill you anyway."

Fanna swirled her hand in the air and a dark smoke gathered around it. When the smoke dispersed, she held a short one-handed flail. She tested it in deftly, hefting it up to swing the iron ball in a menacing show of strength. Benedikt would have thought his thin cousin too weak to handle a flail, but then he hadn't known she had the gift of magic either.

He took a step away from the spinning iron and finally broke his gaze with his cousin to set his eyes on Grielle. It only took a glance and Grielle seemed to understand.

With a flick of Grielle's wrist, a dagger flew threw the air. The flail met the dagger and sent it clattering across the floor. On Fanna's other side, Moose made a quick lunge with his sword, but with inhuman speed, Fanna swung her weapon across her body and knocked the blade away.

Ludvig took the brief moment while Fanna engaged Moose to fire off an arrow at her. Benedikt watched in horror as Fanna, without a glance back at Ludvig, stopped the arrow in midair, inches from her palm.

Yorick was in the midst of muttering a spell when Fanna sent Ludvig's arrow towards him. The arrow hit its target, striking Yorick in the flesh of his arm where his light armor left him exposed. Benedikt circled around to avoid the flail and made a swipe at Fanna's exposed back. Anticipating his move, Fanna brought the swinging iron back around to connect with Benedikt's slash. The meeting of the two weapons sent a jarring shock through Benedikt's arms.

Time seemed to slow. The blade in Benedikt's hands splintered and broke above the hilt. Fanna watched with a manic smile on her lips. She lifted her left hand to point in Benedikt's direction. A deep emerald smoke unfurled from thin air, moving with purpose to wind around Benedikt's feet.

The smoke bound his limbs together as if he had been gripped by invisible chains. He couldn't move, couldn't come to the aid of the others. He watched helplessly as the iron flail struck Reyn in the chest as she tried to land a jab on Fanna's turned back. The crushing emerald tendrils of smoke snaked their way up Benedikt's body, crushing his chest and forcing his back to the wall.

Yorick tried to form some sort of counterspell, but the smoke rushed for him. Fanna's spell curled around Yorick's ankles, yanking him to the ground. She flicked her wrist and the arrow in his arm twisted. Yorick let out a tortured cry.

Grielle launched another dagger at Fanna, but the Witherwitch only redirected the blade to hit Talitha in the stomach, who had begun to rouse from where the curse had knocked her into the wall.

~

Grielle felt her composure slip as she desperately tried to find a way to get the upper hand. She gave a yell of anger as Fanna sent a jet of green sparks at Moose that knocked him off his feet. He fell to the ground where he remained motionless. The more Withering Magic Fanna used, the thinner the air got. It sucked the life out of everything, making Grielle's arms feel heavy, her thoughts sluggish. With only crumbling stones for Fanna to draw magic from, she had to be running out of power.

Ludvig released three arrows. Fanna blocked the first two but her reactions seemed to be slowing as she used more of her magic.

The third arrow found its mark and hit her in the arm. With a feral cry, she dropped the flail and rounded on Ludvig. She sent more jets of green his way, laughing maniacally as Ludvig danced out of the way of each curse until one spell finally met its mark. Ludvig crumpled. Fanna turned on Moose, the next closest target. She sent the same spell his way as he lunged for one of Reyn's fallen blades. He didn't have time to move. The spell hit him as he reached for the weapon and he went down without a word.

Grielle hazarded a glance at Benedikt who struggled madly against the green smoke which had now lifted him off his feet. "Benedikt!" she yelled, noting the pallid look on his face.

Benedikt gasped for air as he thrashed against the bindings, his lips blue for want of breath.

Fanna laughed mirthlessly. "She has taken a liking to you, Benny," she remarked. "And I dare say you've taken a liking to her," Fanna said, taking a discarded blade from the ground and turning to Grielle.

Grielle took her rapier in hand and steadied herself to meet Fanna's blade. Even though it was her last resort, she could handle any adversary one on one when it came to crossing swords. She risked another glance at Benedikt and saw his dark eyes fade in and out of focus, his head lolling on his shoulders.

But the smoke was fading.

Grielle held her blade close to her body, waiting for Fanna to attack. Fanna's eyes glowered at her, sizing her up until she heard Benedikt draw a ragged gasp. The prince fell to the ground.

Fanna's eyes flicked to Benedikt and Grielle made her move. With a quick step forward, she got a jab past Fanna's blade to hit her side.

The Witherwitch screamed as the blade sliced through the white satin that covered her ribcage, but she recovered quickly. With a wave of her hand, she sent a knife flying at Grielle. Grielle dodged the blade but couldn't see where it landed as Fanna delivered a powerful downward swing at her. She blocked the wild blow and swung left to meet Fanna's blade. Metal met metal with a screeching clash. A stitch formed in Grielle's side. Her arms shook as she tried to force Fanna back to get in another swing.

Grielle cried in pain as the stitch in her right side started to burn like her skin was on fire. She looked down in a moment of panic and saw the knife Fanna had thrown earlier now sticking into her side. Grielle faltered as she suddenly felt a deep, hot pressure in her stomach. She sucked in a gasp of breath and held it, too scared to move, frozen where she stood. The more she looked at the blade, the more it hurt, until the room tilted sideways and she fell onto her left side. Over the thrumming of her heart in her ears, she could her Fanna's low, throaty laugh.

Grielle clutched her stomach as she felt the sticky wetness seep out from underneath her leather armor. She tried to lift her head from the ground as her entire body started to shake from the pain.

She couldn't look away as Fanna took several measured steps towards where Benedikt lay.

"Well...your little friend was no help, but I think I'll let her watch your end," Fanna said as she pointed her taloned finger at Benedikt. "Goodbye, little cousin."

With a great flourish of her hand, a wind seemed to swirl through the high castle chamber. An angry green fire erupted from the tip of her finger and hit Benedikt in the heart. He found his voice only to release a tortured cry as he thrashed on the stone floor in pain.

Grielle watched in horror, knowing that whatever Fanna was doing was killing Benedikt. She had to act. The green flames hit Benedikt only to disappear inside his body and Grielle saw only one way to make them stop.

With a shaky arm, Grielle lifted herself to her knees. Every movement sent a violent pain through her body as she crawled soundlessly toward Fanna. She could feel blood pooling in her mouth as she bit her cheek to keep from retching or crying out in pain. Her hand closed around the hilt of Benedikt's broken sword.

Stumbling to her feet, Grielle took a labored step towards Fanna's turned back. Over the unnatural wind and Benedikt's cries of pain, Grielle heard Fanna release a delighted laugh. Focusing all her strength, all her anger on that laugh, Grielle lunged forward.

She wrapped her left arm roughly around Fanna's neck and drove the broken blade in her right hand up under Fanna's ribs, square in the center of her chest. The flames ceased and Fanna collapsed with a gurgling scream. Grielle held the blade steady as Fanna dug her pointed nails deep in the flesh of Grielle's wrist.

Benedikt wasn't moving anymore. A guttural scream escaped Grielle's lips as the Witherwitch drew a ragged breath and at last, her grip fell slack. Shoving Fanna's lifeless figure from her, Grielle freed herself and dragged her shaking frame to Benedikt's side.

"Ben!" she gasped, collapsing onto his limp body. His eyes were closed, his lips unmoving. Grielle felt a sob shake her shoulders as hot tears welled in her eyes. "Ben!" she cried again, trying to rouse him awake. The movement made white lights pop in front of her eyes as her body seemed to become newly aware of the blade still in her side.

She could feel her consciousness slipping as she gasped for breath, her body slumping to the ground. She pushed her lips together and let out three short whistles — a distress signal for Kai. She prayed he was close enough to hear. Grielle took in another pained breath and whistled again. Blackness was creeping up at the sides of her vision. Gathering breath again, she tried a third time to call her familiar, but after the second whistle, the blackness enveloped her and the room went dark.