Free Witch Queen by Kim Richardson Page B

what he
was doing. We all do.”
    Leo’s face hardened. There was no blame in
his eyes. In fact, I couldn’t see a trace of blame in the others
either. Clearly, they did not blame me for Garrick’s death. But I
knew that if anyone was to blame, it should be me.
    My eyes burned, and I fought back the tears.
I prayed to the Goddess that one day I would make this right. For
Garrick. For Jon. For everyone.
    My rage shifted to the real enemy. I
sheathed my sword and sprang to my feet in search of answers. It
took barely twenty seconds before I found them.
    A low, wet cough, sounded from amongst the
bodies.
    In two leaps I found a middle-aged Romilian
who was still alive. His good eye widened in contempt, and the
corners of his mouth lifted in a smile. Big mistake.
    With hands sticky and covered in Garrick’s
blood, I hit him in the face, over and over again, until I couldn’t
feel my fingers.
    “Why? Why did you do this? Why have you
attacked us?” I panted.
    My voice was hoarse, and my throat was on
fire. I could feel it closing up. The others closed in around me,
but they didn’t interfere.
    “We haven’t even entered Romila, and yet you
attacked us in the night like a bunch of cowards. Why? You
bastards!”
    The Romilian’s good eye hardened as he
focused on me, and he smiled again.
    I was furious. I leaned over so that my nose
was nearly touching his. My breath came hard and fast, and I
smelled the sour stench of the man’s piss-pot odor.
    “You spineless prick,” I said through
gritted teeth, my entire body shaking with rage. “Tell me now, or
I’ll slice your throat right here, right now, and let you bleed
out. I’ll do it. You know I will.”
    “I do not fear death,” said the man in a
thick Romilian accent. His teeth were smeared with blood. “The
Creator awaits me,” he croaked.
    He paused for a moment as his breath
escaped. “Beyond the gates of this world…I will join his kingdom
and be cleansed of all my sins…to live for eternity in
paradise.”
    “That’s priests’ bullshit.”
    His lips twitched upwards. “I do the will of
my high priest. The Creator speaks through him…I am but a
messenger.”
    I drew my sword and pointed the tip at his
good eye.
    “Well, if it’s death you want, I shall give
it to you.”
    My blade trembled, and it took a great
amount of self-control not to puncture his eye by mistake.
    “But maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll just keep you
alive long enough for the wild boars and vultures to feed on you
slowly.”
    I smiled as I saw a flicker of fear in his
eye.
    I bared my teeth. “Tell me or I swear to the
Creator and the Goddess that I will pluck your eye out and watch as
you wither away and die, screaming in agony. I don’t mind. I have
all night. I can wait. You don’t have much longer. But I will keep
you alive for as long as I can, so that you die screaming the name
of your mommy.”
    “Tell her,” ordered Will, stepping next to
me. “Or I’m going to help feed you to the boars myself. Boars can
smell the scent of blood for miles. They’ll be here soon. Tell her,
and we’ll end it quickly. We can give you a warrior’s death.”
    It was good to feel Will’s camaraderie once
again, but my reassurance faded when the Romilian spoke again.
    “The high priest of Romila told us,” the
man’s breath was ragged, but I could still hear the sneer in his
voice. “… that it was the will of the temple, of the Creator, that
you should die.” He smiled at the alarm in my eyes. “His eminence
said that the Creator would spare all of our families from the
black plague,” he paused, waiting for my full attention, “but only if we brought him back the head of the witch skilled with a
blade.”
    “Horseshit,” said Lucas as he wiped blood
from his face with a stained cloth. But I could see he realized the
implications of what the Romilian had just said.
    The high priests had put a bounty on my
head. Our quest had just become ten times more dangerous.
    I stood up