The Sorceress by Caroline Bates

Michael · Posted: Fri May 15, 2009 9:21 pm Post subject: The Sorceress by Caroline Bates

The Sorceress
by Caroline Bates

Gern sat on his narrow cot thinking it over as he waited to be recalled to duty. It wasn’t too bad … was it? He was probably making something of nothing. After all, Commander Esolf hadn’t actually cancelled the trip. The thought slowed his pulse to a gentler rhythm, but it leapt wildly a few moments later as a vision of the Sorceress flashed into his head, dark eyes watching under glowing, golden hair, the sound of her laughter echoing behind his eyes. He was kidding himself. Would he leave her side if she had beckoned him as she had Esolf? He almost managed to quell a groan of disappointment and had to muffle it against his sleeve.

His assignment here wasn’t simple, he’d known that from the start, but he hadn’t really contemplated failing. At least, not this way. For over six months he had worked in the city, taking on the guise of a silent, obedient, soulless Bondsman so that he could get close to the Commander. Close enough to plant information and influence actions, leading to a day like today, when Esolf would ride out from behind the safety of the walls and they’d have him. But he hadn’t figured on her, hadn’t realised she also had her sights set on Esolf.

Earlier, the Sorceress had entered the room where he had been, standing at vacant attention while the soldiers of the enemy practiced their killing moves in the privacy of the hall. The folds of her dress had whispered across the highly polished floor. It was the smallest of noises, yet completely filled the room and the ears of the young soldiers. She walked as if there by accident, exaggerating each tiny step as one hand trailed along the racks of weapons that lined the walls. Her fingers played delicately on the heavy hilts and handles, running along the honed blades, resting momentarily on the ornate grip of some officer’s staff.

Gern had fought a silent war not to watch the hand as it wandered so carelessly through such objects of destruction, and couldn’t. Even when his eyes stared dead ahead, it felt as though the five slender finders were running over his skin. His whole body seemed to be trembling, but no one had shouted, pulled him from his post, denounced his presence in the heart of the palace, and so he must have succeeded in holding his discomfort beneath his skin. The thought hadn’t made him feel much better.

Commander Esolf had continued drilling his troops, although even if he had failed to realise her presence, his distracted subordinates should have been warning enough. But he refused to diminish the force of his blows and Gern stilled a wince as a young lad, no older than he, caught a crashing blow across his jaw and a fine spattering of blood marbled the woodwork. Esolf’s mouth twisted downwards as he turned away, leaving the soldier for others to tend, and only then seemed to notice the Sorceress for the first time.

She had come to rest against the bench near Gern, her hands placed slightly behind her to comfortably take her weight, while booted legs stretched out into the room. He couldn’t get the impression of a cat luxuriating in the warmth of a midday sun out of his head. But it wasn’t light that the Sorceress bathed in. As Esolf approached, she re-crossed her ankles and gracefully inclined her head to acknowledge his greeting.

"Milady. You honour us with your presence, but it is unusual to see you here."

"Milord," she replied in the same, half-mocking, all too formal tone, "It is unusual, for me, to feel so forced to search you out." A smile teased her lips.

"I trust you had a … pleasant … journey."

Esolf took another step forward so that her legs extended well past his feet and Gern caught the quick caress of boot on boot. Everything else in the room had stopped and the urge to watch them was hard to resist.

"Milady knows the journey was far from pleasant."

"Milady knows no such think, especially as Milord hasn’t the decency to visit on his return."

"Milady knows better than to expect such a visit."

Her voice dropped an octave as she replied, "And that depends on what Milord expects from such a visit, or those that would follow. Doesn’t it?" The words softly filled the few centimetres of air between them, then spread out to echo around the rest of the room so that every man felt the same quick throb of emotion. Like statues, the couple stood, and like a statue Gern found it impossible to breathe the thick atmosphere forming around him. Then the Sorceress ducked away and the spell was broken.

Esolf reached for her as she turned and Gern had thought he saw a crackle of lightening pass between his outstretched fingers and the long sleeve of her dress, but it vanished too quickly to be sure. "I trust you’ll find time to visit me now," she said at the door.

Esolf hesitated, then inclined his head in answer. "This afternoon, Milady."

She laughed and walked away, leaving Esolf hungry for her company and Gern suddenly bewildered by how easily all his plans had come apart.

He was so deep in thought, trying to find a way out of the mess, that he had to clamp his teeth against a shocked squeal as the light-box on the wall flashed once, twice, and then the monotone voice of a fellow Bondsman filled the chamber. As if he were one of the possessed spirits for real, he stared at the glow blankly, only half-aware of the words spoken in the erratic language of the telepathic servants, and its meaning escaped him for a few precious moments. Only when the light went dark and the sounds had stopped flowing could he take it in. Could his dark, dismal thoughts of only heartbeats before have been a bit premature?

He wiped the sweat from his skin, adjusted the void on his face where emotions should have been racing, then hurried back to his mock duties without answering his own question, but it was too late to turn back now.

Commander Esolf was tapping a booted foot against the crumbling walls of the hall, but seemed resigned to the act of waiting for the shambling Bondsmen to finish loading the horses with saddles, weapons and rope – lots of thick rope already fashioned into rough nooses to save time later. Gern found it hard to keep plodding onwards with his tasks, especially as his heart tried its best to proclaim his treachery through the walls of his chest. And his eyes constantly sought out the Commander as if losing sight of him would bring the whole thing crashing down once more. As he smoothed the long hair beneath the horse’s girth he let a small amount of hope flourish amongst the few doubts that continued to wave their ugly heads. He hadn’t realised that the rumours he had started were that good, good enough that Esolf was actually turning down the attentions of the Sorceress to go hunting them.

Swinging back and forth between hopeful confidence and shameful uncertain, he absentmindedly patted the horse. The huge animal turned its head so that he could see deep into its solemn hazel eyes. His hand was already travelling up the shaggy neck to scratch against the long ears when he remembered where he was and who was watching. Carefully, he reached for the bridle and pretended to adjust the straps instead, while slyly glancing around the courtyard to see if he’d been spotted. No-one was watching, although he had the strange feeling that Esolf’s eyes had slid off his own a moment before he had looked that way, but the Commander was minutely inspecting the dusty crevices of his finger nails instead of calling the guards. Gern returned to the job in hand and reminded himself to be a lot more careful this close to the end.

"You there. Bondsman. Come here."

Gern’s heart flipped over and he almost wished that Esolf had caught him. She stood at the top of the steps, regarding him with raised eyebrow and twisted smile. Once again, the flurry of activity slowed as everyone turned their attention to the vision in pale skirts and long, black boots, halo of hair catching the midday sun. How long had she been there? Gern stood respectively a step below her, keeping his head low in case his fear showed, but also so he didn’t have to look into those deep eyes that saw and remembered everything. A hundred tales and rumours about her arts went spinning through his thoughts as he waited, but it was the rich, enticing scent of her, rather than this mental maelstrom, that made him dizzy. He dug his toes into the soles of his boots and tried not to let go, even when every fibre in his body was calling for him to kneel before her. He had to hold on—a Bondsman never knelt, never worshipped, and never cared.

"Follow us out with the packhorses. Take the grey mare."

Esolf joined them. "Anything wrong?"

The Sorceress turned her radiance to him and immediately Gern felt the heat leave his taut body.

"My servant is ill. I wish another to take his place."

Esolf shrugged, not caring which of the interchangeable slaves she picked.

"We should be moving if we are to reach the woods before dark."

"It’ll still be light when we get there." A statement that felt more like a promise as it fell from her lips and Gern had no doubt it was something she could do if she chose. He had to still a small shudder and, as if catching the small motion, she rounded on him. "Bondsman. Hurry."

He nodded a quick bow and half tripped down the steps, trotting into the crowded yard and hoping he could get lost in the general confusion, but he could feel her gaze on his back and realised there was no way he could disappear. He hadn’t actually expected to be with Esolf when he left the city. Now he had no choice.

Such was the state of this thoughts that it was only when he was mounted and following the retinue out through the giant gates did he truly understand that she was coming too. Outside. Where Gern’s comrades waited to ambush Esolf and a few soldiers. Not Esolf, soldiers and her.

Gern always enjoyed horse riding. From the very first time he was thrown aboard one of the stolen nags in the village, he’d known it was for him. The gentle swaying coupled with the feeling of power and strength had always seemed an alien mix, yet somehow also seemed the most natural way to travel. He’d been forced to learn so he could fake hearing the voice of the Bondsman’s God telling him how to do all the things he would be asked during his days of service, but riding had been the only one of those frenzied lessons he had actually enjoyed. Yet despite this horse being finer, fitter and better cared for than his normal mount, he couldn’t find even the smallest amount of joy as he followed the others through the empty landscape. His eyes persistently strayed to where she rode her bright red stallion, the fingers of one hand reaching for Esolf who rode close at her side, first brushing a fallen leaf from the braid on his shoulder, now tapping against his thigh to reinforce the words they shared. Every tiny movement caught Gern’s attention. He couldn’t help but keep her in sight, knowing she was the one who could stop all this in a flash of heat, light and pain—if they were lucky and she decided they weren’t worth the bother of summoning her more creative arts.

They’d been riding for barely an hour when the first trees appeared. Lightly spaced, yet each surround by an island of coarse bracken and thorny bramble, the trees towered above the mounted soldiers. Paths meandered gently between them, into shadow and light, disappearing from view in the distance where the trunks suddenly clung closer together and the undergrowth gave way to gloom. Some of the soldiers had never been out this far and a peculiar mixture of fear, excitement and curiosity was etched on each face. Even the Bondsmen shrank back from the forest, but Gern knew that wasn’t fear, but the revulsion of this wild place felt by their demons and displayed on the fused skin. Gern had always wondered why the forest was left to grow, mocking those who dwelt in the city and supposedly sheltering the Unfused, humans unable to hear the holy words, and the Dissenters, those who refused to. But stand it did, and time after time Esolf had ridden this route to hunt his quarry through the green shadows. Only this time he was unknowingly acting as the game. Gern hid his desperate smile in the sleeve of his coat and returned to surreptitiously scanning the branches for his comrades. He so badly wanted this to work. Then his eyes caught sight of her again and he knew there was little chance it would.

As the afternoon wore on, he tried not to jump at each little sound, each time expecting it to be the whirlwind of noise and colour that would erupt from some hidden grove, but time and time again it never came. He rode in a small world of his own, his mind playing out a hundred different scenarios, a hundred different disasters that might account for the others’ absence. And there was no way to definitively find out what had gone wrong. He should have been miles away and oblivious to what was going on, but he’d had to see Esolf ride out to his doom and was now trapped in a hell that he had made for himself.

There was a noticeable darkening of the sky when Esolf called a halt. He spoke briefly with his Captains and Gern could tell that something had upset them. A long whistle sounded, echoing back and forth amongst the trees and, as if by magic, a whole regiment of soldiers wandered out of the gloom. Mouth dry, palms wet, Gern watched them line up in front of their Commander, who didn’t seem surprised to see them, and as cold fingers squeezed his spine, he realised there was only one reason for bringing so many armed men into the forest. He sat on his mare, tried to look blank and unconcerned by the milling troops, but half expected his friends and comrades to be dragged into the clearing. Not that they were likely to be caught alive—and he didn’t know which would be worse, to see them hung in front of his eyes or watch the parade of sightless heads dragged back to camp as trophies. And just as he was getting over that shock, another hit him. Did they know he was the serpent in their midst?

Despite the late hour, the Bondsmen were ordered to set up a temporary camp. Unable to fight back against the shocked daze that was slowly taking him over, his act as a Bondsman was the most credible it had ever been. As he plodded where he was sent, fetching and carrying for everyone else, he couldn’t even raise an inner smile at the thought. It felt as if his body was frozen while the nerves running through it were vibrating with an explosive force that was about to let fly at any moment. Every second was a fight to stop that happening.

He was tending the pot of tea suspended above a glowing fire, breathing deeply and trying to think, when Esolf hunkered down opposite and took a ladle full of the strong, almost black liquid. From the shadows, the Sorceress appeared and for a moment she was lit by the flickering flames, standing perfectly still as she watched him drink. Then she let a hand drop to his shoulder, squeezing the knotted muscles through his embroidered uniform.

"Your source was wrong. That is all," she said, taking his mug and grimacing at the smell, but taking the smallest of sips anyway, letting her lips rest against the edge of the mug while she swallowed. Her tongue lapped gently at her lips and Esolf swallowed as he took back the mug.

"No. Not possible." His voice had thickened, but his hands were curled into fists and a frown contorted his features.

"Well, there’s no-one here." She laughed, teasing him with the obvious fact even as her fingers pulled at his plaited hair. She lifted the mug to his mouth, making him drink like a mother does a child.

He sighed. "No. There isn’t."

She laughed again and for a moment Gern felt a whirlwind of emotions well up inside as if they were keyed directly into the sound. He couldn’t imagine what Esolf felt with all that energy focused directly on him.

"Even the great Commander can get it wrong," she added.

From hooded eyes, Gern watched Esolf’s face contract, but he allowed her gentle caress, albeit in glowering silence.

"We’ll catch them in time. All of them," she whispered and suddenly looked up, straight into Gern’s eyes. His hand spasmed and a stream of tea splashed into the fire, but when he could bring himself to look back, she was smiling down at Esolf and Gern had gone back to not existing in their world.

"Maybe it isn’t that much of a waste," she said, "The evening is young and here we are, out in the woods, all alone."

"Apart from a whole regiment and a gang of invisible outlaws." But his heart wasn’t in it. He gently stroked a tress of her hair, winding it tight around his fingers like rings of precious gold. Her only movement was to lean into the caress, eyes widening slightly as she smiled. Gern was fixated, forgetting the ruse of Bondsman as he watched the pair, but neither would have noticed if he’d stood and danced a waltz around the clearing.

"And you do have to make up for your previous lack of attention." Her words were whispered, husky, but Gern heard, and felt them, over the steaming fire.

Abruptly, Esolf was gone, arguing with his Captains and issuing orders to the suddenly bustling camp, while the Sorceress carefully sat, arranging her skirts to keep them from the mud. Her face was turned towards the flames and Gern thought he saw a fleeting … something … there, but then it was gone, settled back into its habitual cold sneer as she stared at nothing in particular.

"Bondsman. Stay. We’ll have need of you later." She spoke without looking up, but he nodded an acknowledgement anyway. He found himself accepting the inevitable. He doubted they would go to such lengths just to catch him, the snake in the grass of their perfect, uncomplicated, repressive world, but he found himself out of new emotions, drained of cares, and totally fixated on keeping up the pretence for just a few moments more.

It took little time for the rest to leave, despite the obvious reluctance of some officers, but no one refused the Commander. That was why Gern had been sent to turn him back to their cause. They needed him if they were to win back their world from the demons. Gern sighed and thought briefly of his friends, hoping against hope that they had escaped the extra patrols he had been unable to warn them about. It was a small thing to cling to, but it was all he had. With it, he could think about sneaking away, returning to the village and admitting his failure, or maybe returning to the city where his proper extraction plan could be put into action, leaving him a chance to try again. That was if they weren’t here to catch him.

"A Bondsmen would not look so … pensive."

He froze as the Sorceress stepped behind him.

"Don’t fear. They’ve gone. There is only you and I. And him."

He still didn’t move and she reached out to touch him. He instantly twisted away and dropped into a half crouch, yanking at the knife nestled in the hidden scabbard close to his skin and crossing his fingers to ward off her magic. She simply smiled and a spark gleamed in her eyes.

"Neither of those would work if I truly meant you harm. Come. I need your help. The potion will take hold soon, but it will be a while before the others skirt around the regiment."

She snorted a sudden burst of amusement and her face changed. For that instant, she seemed real, a person, a young—if beautiful girl—and then the dreaded Sorceress was back. She left him and returned to where Esolf crouched, staring into the fire.

He was so still. Only his face seemed alive, eyes widening, jaw dropping as if caught in the world’s biggest surprise. In a way, he was. The demon was weakening inside, and realisation of what had happened to him many years ago when he’d been too young to fight back awakened in the twitching muscles. Gern had witnessed the exorcism many times before, felt empathy for the shock and revulsion the man was feeling, but this time he didn’t understand.

The Sorceress knelt by the soldier and with muttered spells, rested her fingers on his deeply lined forehead. He convulsed and a curtain of shadow fell across his features. He struck out, sending her tumbling towards the flames, which she narrowly missed with a deft twist of her body. "Help me," she said and Gern felt his feet moving before his head had decided if it was really safe to do so.

They managed to hold Esolf, forcing the potions into his mouth and the spells into his ears, but the demon Fused within him wasn’t ready to give up the fight. It screeched and clawed, twisted and punched, but its hold on the body weakened with every breath of bright, clean air. Esolf was fighting too, his own mind forcing the usurper out as the rituals took hold. Gern became half-aware of the others stepping into the clearing, gathering around them with whispered awe, but his attention was totally fixed on Esolf. Esolf and the Sorceress. Finally, the tremors stopped and the Commander, once feared and obeyed by all, lay on the cold earth between them, laughing gently and staring at the stars that peeped down through the leaves.

The Sorceress rocked back on her heels and brushed the dirt from her skirts. "You did fine," she said and there was none of the heat in her voice he had come to expect, only weariness, "but you had me worried there a few times. You make a fine Bondsman though. A bit more practice and you won’t need me."

"But who are you?" Gern was too tired, physically and mentally, to make sense of it all. She glanced quickly down at her ex-lover, now peacefully snatching his first free sleep in decades, and then reached for the reins of her horse that someone held out. Her face was serene, almost cold, as she turned away. She then took a proffered bag, which rang metallically as she gently shook it and felt its weight, then motioned for Gern to follow. Just before she mounted, she reached over and wrapped her fingers around his head, planting a gentle kiss on his brow. He flushed a deep red and abruptly pulled away, instantly regretting breaking the contact between them, yet unable to reconcile this Sorceress with the black hearted witch he’d been taught to believe in and fear so much. She only laughed. "Who am I?" she mused, "I was your back-up. I’m the world’s back-up." Still chuckling, she swung into the saddle and rode back towards the city, leaving Gern with the freed soul of Esolf, Commander of the enemy’s forces, and with a sudden hope starting to bloom deep down inside where his doubts had once dwelt.

The End

Story Copyright © by Carline Bates. All rights reserved.

About the Author

Caroline Bates has had fantasy, science fiction and horror short stories published in the British small press, but although having a story highly recommended in the Writers of the Future competition, she has yet to break into the overseas market. She is currently working on getting the rest of those pesky ideas on to paper before they flit away into nothingness!

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