Page 5 of Warmongers and Wands
Chapter 3
Hadur
The raccoon came through the dog door, dragging a plastic shopping bag behind him.
“What do you have for me today, Diebin?” I stooped down to pick up the bag. This was my routine. Diebin would go into what I assumed was a nearby town once or twice a day and bring back items for me. Food. Tools. Clothing. Useless brightly colored plastic things.
It was the books, magazines, and newspapers I appreciated the most. They kept me occupied. They let me know what was happening in the world outside my summoning circle. They kept me from going crazy.
Well, except for those Tiger Beat magazines. They actually made me crazy.
“What is Shawn Mendes up to now?” I asked the raccoon as I pulled one of the magazines from the bag. I’d hoped for a GQ, or a Men’s Health. This month was supposed to have a list of top abs and arms exercises and I didn’t want to miss it.
But Tiger Beat it was. Along with the magazine was a can of something called Chicken a la King, a game controller for an Xbox, a pump for inflating basketballs, a set of pillow cases, goldfish food, and a giant-sized Snickers bar.
“Nice haul,” I told him.
The raccoon stood on his hind legs and waved a paw at me.
“Okay, okay. Keep your fur on.” I opened the Snickers bar, breaking it in half and giving one portion to my furry friend. Then I sat down at the table with my half of the candy and the magazine. Diebin had brought back three pounds of stew meat and an assortment of vegetables on his run last night, and those were now cooking in a pot over the fire. Between the two of us, we’d managed pretty well over the last two centuries. I’d built this cabin and the tables and chairs; he'd furnished it with stolen stuff from the locals and lately from some place called Walmart which seemed to carry everything a demon could want and a whole lot of stuff I didn’t want. Like this game controller. I didn’t have an Xbox, and even if I did, I didn’t have any electricity to run it. Which was a shame because those electronic games looked like they’d be fun—more fun than this last issue of Tiger Beat, anyway.
The magazine and the candy bar didn’t last long. I neatened up the cabin a bit, then headed outside for a loop around the narrow confines of what had become my cage. There was some thunder off in the distance, the sky taking on a faint yellowish tinge that heralded a coming storm. I roamed the very familiar woods around my cabin, looking up the cliff face toward the mountaintop, then wandering to the other side and a partial view of the valley below. The summoning area was in a plateau on a heavily wooded mountain. At first, my days here had been deathly quiet aside from the animals, but in the last century I’d been able to hear the sounds of mechanized equipment both up on the mountain and down in the valley. At night, I could see the faint lights of a town far below me and off into the distance. They’d always been there—a few golden pinpoints in the beginning that had become a splash of light in the last century. I’d watched the town broaden, populate, grow—its story only told to me by faint noise carried on the breeze and the increasing nighttime lights.
When would that witch return? When would anyone come? Each year it became more and more difficult to keep myself from sinking into despair, from destroying everything in my summoning circle in a fit of rage. Was I to remain here forever? Alone, trapped, with nothing to entertain me besides a raccoon and an occasional magazine?
I sat and watched the storm roll in from the distance, trying to keep my hopes up that eventually someone would return to free me. As the first fat drops began to fall, I headed back to my cabin to give the stew a stir and find something to occupy myself. Diebin had brought some batteries last week that fit the cassette player, so I put those in and looked through my collection of tapes. They were all old and starting to fray. It seemed they were out of production as Diebin had not brought me any replacements in the last few decades.
But for now, I had Doobie Brothers, a candle that smelled like sugar cookies, and a dinner I was looking forward to. I headed over to my cache of books, trying to decide what to read as the storm hit and shook the cabin.
Thunder crashed, one after another, then I heard a noise that sounded similar to the thunder.
“Rock slide,” I told Diebin, pulling a book from the shelf. They happened on occasion, sometimes large enough to launch boulders through the boundary of my summoning circle. Unfortunately, the rocks and mud and fallen trees did nothing to break the magical borders. Nothing did, although in the past few years I’d sensed a weakening of the perimeter. If no witch came to free me, perhaps in three or four hundred years, the barrier would be weak enough for me to escape.
It was things like that which gave me hope, which helped me hold on.
I felt the crash of rocks through the magical barrier and grimaced, realizing that this was a huge rockslide. The noise sounded oddly metallic, echoing across the plateau and followed by the thump of trees cracking and smashing into each other from the impact.
Then I felt something that nearly brought me to my knees—magic. Not just any magic, but witch magic. She was here. In the middle of a storm, with the rockslide, she’d arrived. My witch was here to save me.
I threw the book aside and ran from the cabin. The cold rain pelted me, wind knocking me back a step. I doubled over and pushed on, determined to face my witch at the edge of my circle, to plead for release. I’d do anything for her—be anything. I’d partner with her, I’d bond with her, I’d grant her immortality, grant her every wish. I’d do anything if only she set me free.
I’d expected to reach the edge of my boundary and see a witch standing there in a glow of light, wind and rain blowing her hair and clothing as she channeled it all in a stream of power. Instead I found rocks and broken trees and a metal box similar to what I’d seen in the magazines.
Correction—two metal boxes. The first one was a twisted broken heap that I believe would have been called a truck. The other was attached behind it, a square metal container that looked to be some sort of trailer. The trailer had broken open and there were metal objects strewn about—a good many of them outside the limits of my circle. I squinted at the truck and trailer, waiting for the witch to appear. I could feel her presence, sense the intoxicating power of her energy. She was here, inside the truck, no doubt waiting to make an entrance.
When the witch didn’t appear, I cautiously approached. It would be disastrous to anger her, but she was inside my circle and after waiting over two hundred years, I was impatient.
“I am here, my witch,” I called out over the storm. She didn’t answer, so I grabbed hold of the door and pulled. It didn’t budge.
What was her truck doing down here, smashed and covered in rocks and trees? She was a witch. Surely, she wouldn’t have been caught in the rockslide? Unless the rockslide had been caused by a rival witch. Suddenly the storm took on whole new meaning. I put my demon strength to use and yanked on the door. The handle broke off, so I gripped the sides and pulled it off its hinges.
The woman inside groaned, turning her head to look at me. It was then I realized that she was hurt, in pain, wedged in this broken truck and held as tightly as if it had been a prison.
Her eyes met mine, and I felt a jolt that shook me to my core. A witch. My witch. She was older than when she’d been here before. Her reddish-brown hair fell just past her chin, her skin a golden tan. She was beautiful. So very beautiful. Even injured, she took my breath away.
I knelt beside her. “You came back. You came back for me.”
A tiny frown creased her forehead. “I need…I need help. I’m hurt. My legs are stuck. Can you call someone?”
Call someone? I could shout with all my might, and no one would hear me, especially over this storm. Did she mean those communication devices I’d seen advertised in the magazines? Diebin had brought a few of them to the cabin and I’d never managed to get them to work.
There was no need to call anyone. She had me, and I do would everything for her. I would free her, take care of her, give her everything in my power to give. I would serve her, be her devoted partner and bond-mate. I’d be hers for all eternity in the hope that she’d find me worthy, that she would free me.
My witch was here. My witch had finally returned. I nearly wept at the thought.
