The woman knelt by the altar, setting down a candle. The candle was an expensive scented one, set in a heavy copper candleholder. Into the copper was engraved one word, the name "Alitzia". And the candle was not alone; there were hundreds, each with a different name.
At first glance, the woman was old; her cury hair, cropped above her ears, was as white as newly fallen snow. But in reality, the woman was twenty-five at most; she had a young face, but it was probably older than she actually was. Close up, it also seemed apparent that she was blind; her eyes were as white as her hair. But she appeared to read the names engraved in the candle-holders, so perhaps she wasn't.
The woman blew out the candle. She then sat and thought for a moment, staring off into space. Then she got up, brushing a tear from her cheek. She walked through the door, where a plain chestnet mare was standing. The woman quickly saddled the mare, and mounted. Clucking to her mount, she road out of sight.
I am Marissa Deleuin. I am a Witch.
But witchcraft is not bad. There are many witches. I live in the WitchHome, and there are about fifty of us there at any one time. And because there are so many of us, we have had a chance to learn about our Gifts.
For instance, we have learned that no two witches have the same Gift. And if a witch dies, another person becomes a witch. And the Gifts seem to have different ways of functioning. I, for example, am a Suffering Empathic Reciever. That means that my Gift is stimulated by suffering, it is a form of empathy, and I recieve emotions, as opposed to emmiting them. Another example of a Gift is Suffering Prophetic Recieving, which was the Gift of a young witch named Alitzia, who was burned before I could reach her. She foresaw pain, suffereing, and death.
Because the WitchHouse witches know so much about witchcraft, we are trying to find all the witches; if a witch is not saved by us, she is either killed, goes insane, or both. And because Searchers like myself are bringing so many witches to the WitchHouse, Researchers can learn about other Gifts, which lets us find out about even more.
I am currently trying to find a witch called Elouisa. She is a Suffering Teleportic Projector; she can move things with witchcraft when feeling a negative emotion. Her case would not be so bad if she weren't so old; she is over thirty, and has had the Gift since she was five. She is likely to go insane. I usually go after the toughest cases; I'm second to the High Witch of the Searchers, and have had my Gift for eleven years, since I was eight. Because I'm an empath, I know how my charges are feeling, which comes in handy.
Hopefully I will be able to save Elouisa. The last witch I was supposed to save was Alitzia Hevrabonni, the Suffering Prophretic Reciever. I managed to get to the town she was staying in, but I was too late; I arrived as they were burning her. But two out of three missions fail. And that's for most Searchers! I get the most difficult missions, so four out of five fail for me.
I have to hurry. Today is Elouisa's trial, and I haven't even reached the outskirts of town!
I am tired of huddling under this bush. My legs have gone to sleep. But I don't dare move; they'll find me...
I'd grown up as Fisherman Lieki's eldest daughter. I'd always been... odd, but my family could live with that. My entire village could. If I was in a bad mood, things would move about, but things had been that way since I was five. The villagers learned to use it to their advantage. If I was feeling upset, the villagers would ask me to help them repair homes, move heavy loads, and the like. By the time I was twenty, I was one of the most important people in the village.
But then the WitchHunters came.
By then I was married, and had a child; little Sam, the joy of my life. But the WitchHunters came. They condemed me. I was to be burned, but my husband saved me, and I escaped. He made me promise to live. And I promised, and escaped.
They killed him. They had someone else raise Sam, and he became a WitchHunter. And I, bound by my promise, lived.
But that was ten years ago. I had gotten over it... sort of. Except that now the people of Redwood want me dead. They call me a witch, and want to burn me.
I'd known how to swim, of course; I was a fisherman's daughter. But the people of Redwood didn't think that I was swimming durning my Trial of Water. Luckily, I was angry; they had thrown me in the rive! I'd never moved myself before, and it used most of my strength, making me feel drained. But I'd floated myself out of the river and into this forest.
I just have to wait 'till nightfall. Then I can sneak away. But it's just past noon, and...
Oh my gosh! I've been caught! Why was I thinking? I shouldn't have been thinking! I should have been keeping watch! Then she wouldn't have found me! But she has! And now...
My captor looks as surprised as I feel. Perhaps she didn't expect to find me so close to Redwood. And I don't recognize her. She doesn't look like a WitchHunter, either. She must be old; her air is dead white. She looks important; you can't tell until you get close, but hehr chestnut horse is very nice, and her green riding dress is of a nicer fabric then most. Perhaps she just an elderly merchant woman, or perhaps a lower-class noble. If so, I wonder where her guards are. Perhpas they're hinding, so they can surprise and overwhelm me if I"m dangerous.
I mustn't act dangerous, then. I'll be polite and subservient.
"Hello, ma'am," I say, lowering my eyes.
"Hello. I'm sory for nearly running you over. What are you doing down there?" Maybe she isn't so old; her voice is young, and doesn't sound old.
"I'm... uh... picking flowers. Fo my mother. She's... uh... getting old, and I wanted something to spruce up the home, so..."
"I see. And what is your name?"
"Elouisa." I immediately curse myself for my foolishness. But she isn't from Redwood. Perhaps she won't-
"Elouisa Lieki?"
"I... I..." She is searching for me! And now I would die!
"Elouisa, look at me." I look up, then gulp. I hadn't noticed before, but her eyes were as white as her hair, except, of course, for the pupil. Is she blind? No, she blinked, and her eyes moved to much for her to be blind.
She smiles at me, and says, "Elouisa, I am a witch, like you. My name is Marissa Deleuin, and I am an empath; I sense emotions. I belong to a group of witches. I have come to save you. Will you come with me?"
I nod, too scared to speak- she's a witch!- and follow Marissa Deleuin.
The forest was silent except for the odd bird or rustle of leaves. It was so quiet. But that was not out of the ordinary. Anyone who travelled the Redwood Forest paths would be used to it.
But if that same traveller were to continue walking, they would see a very strage sight.
A young, rich, white-haired woman and a middle-aged, poor, brown-haired woman were standing in the middle of a clearing. To all appearances, they were chouting. To all appearances; they made no more sound than mutes.
If the traveller were observant, they would notice the way the air blurred slightly. And if the traveller were to pass the blurry air-wall, the traveller would be able to hear the woman.
But no travellers, theoretical or otherwise, travelled the paths of Redwood Forest; not today, at any rate. No one owuld go withing a thousand miles of a witch, and there was one in the forest!
"No!"
"Yes!"
"No!"
"Yes!"
"No!"
"Yes!"
"No!"
I sighed. Elouisa was being annoying. And she was very stubborn. "Yes!" I yelled.
"No! I"m not going with you!"
"Yes, you are!"
"Why?"
"Because otherwise you'll die!"
"No I won't!"
"Then what are the citizens of Redwood doing, planning a barbecue?"
"I... don't know!"
"Well, they are. And they're going to barbecue you!"
"But-"
"Now listen up! You doin't want to come 'cause you're scarred. But nothing bad will happen to you. I just want to make sure you won't die!"
"Nothing bad will happen to me. Yeah right! If nothing bad will happen to me, why is your hair white?"
"My Gift."
"Sure."
"Stop behaving like a two-year-old! I know lots of girls who would have loved to come with me!"
"Why don't you go bother them?"
"They're dead."
"...Oh."
"Yes, 'oh'. So why don't you want to come with me?"
"You're... well, you are a witch, and witches are evil!"
"You are also a witch."
"No, I'm not!"
"Then what are you? A 'woman with magic'?"
"I... I... I don't have a familiar!"
"Neither do I."
"Oh."
"So, are going to come with me?"
"I..."
She was losing her resolve- a good thing- so I pressed her again.
"come with me. I'll see that you're safe."
"I... I..." She burst into tears.
I leaned forward and gave her a comforting hug-
pain-grief-suffering-loss-loneliness-sadness-pain-in need of comfort-need to talk-need to get help-loneliness
I drew back, stiffling a gasp. We'd never figured out why Suffering witches gasped when we used our Gifts; we just did, regardless of whether or not we were used to it. Even after eleven years I still gasped. Elouisa eyed my suspiciously.
"What is it?"
"Nothing."
"Oh come on! It wasn't nothing! 'Fess up!"
I sighed. "Really, it was nothing." Seeing the looke on her face- she was positive that I needed help- I said, "I reciece negative emotions through physical contact."
"Oh. So... You know what I'm feeling?"
"Yes. I feel your pain."
"Is that one of your Gifts?"
"Each witch has only one Gift."
"So it's your only Gift?" I nodded. "Ok..."
"Now, are going to come with me?"
"I suppose... No!"
"Why not?"
"You're... You're heathens!"
"How about this; you come to the WitchHouse, and see what it's like. If you don't like it, you can leave. Sound good?"
"...I guess."
"Good. Now let's go."
I stepped quietly, so as to avoid being seen or heard. If they saw me...
I am not much of a woodsperson, so I tripped on a root. I spat dirt and cursed softly. Now anyone in the forest would know I was there. My partner, riding on the horse, glared at me.
I mentally cursed myself for agreeing. I should have at least insisted that I ride the horse. But not, I had to be stupid and walk-
And I had to be daydreaming and not watching where I was going. But I guess Elouisa hadn't heard me; I'd crashed into her.
My partner, the WitchHunter, smiled. "Ah! Elouisa! So nice of you to join us!" Turning to the white-haired woman on a horse that had just ambled out of the woods, he said, "I don't believe I caught your name, miss."
"I didn't give it," she told him flatly.
"Tut tut! Such poor manners!"
"I'm not the one burning people."
"I tire of this game," he said, a warning creeping into his voice.
"I'm Marissa Deleuin, a Suffering Empathic Recieving Witch."
"Pardon?"
"I said-"
"I know what you said! What does it mean?
"I recieve negative emotions through physical contact."
"I see. Well, I'm afraid we'll have to try and burn you."
"Really? Well, I'm afraid we'll have to be leaving. Elouisa, would you mind floating us out of this forest?"
That's when I remembered what I was supposed to do. I quickly sneaked up behind Elouisa and hit her over the head with a cudgel. She dropped to the ground, unconcious.
And the expressions on Marissa Deleuin's face was priceless.
It was a dark and stormy... day..., but there were many people in the village square. They would not miss this, regardless of the weather.
The people of Redwood could get used to this. Witch burnings were becoming a time to visit with friends and neighbours. It was the same with the witch trials.
Three days ago, two witches had been caught. One of them, Elouisa, had lived in Redwood, and had failed her trial. She had been burned yesterday. The other, Marissa, was being tried today. She had confessed, but the WitchHunters wanted to make sure they were burning a witch, not a suicidal lunatic.
The voices of the crowd died down as the WitchHunter, WitchHunter Samuel, stepped onto the bridge. "People of Redwood, we have a witch! But before we burn her, we must first make sure she is telling the truth!" He nodded to one of his associates, who grinned, and tossed the struggling Marissa into the river.
Cold! It is so cold! But I'll soon warm up; I just have to keep moving.
I've never swam before, but it can't be that hard. One simply flails about and rises to the surface, right? So here I go. Flail, kick, flail, kick...
It's not working. And I'm getting tired. I need air. I need to breathe...
Fish can breathe water. Perhaps I can, too. I think I'll try.
Aak! Nope, didn't work!"
Oh $^!#! I need air! I'm getting tired! My vision is dimming. I need to rest! But if I do...
A bit more struggling...