The Flame Witch

 

Arkk didn’t consider himself the smartest person around. Well-read—or at least as well-read as a small village farmboy could get—and knowledgeable about the world from his frequent conversations with travelers, he thought he was better off than most. There were still many areas in which he knew he had improvements to make. Still, even the biggest idiot in the village would have been able to recognize that teleporting directly in front of a wall of fire capable of turning a door to ash in seconds was a bad idea.

Not wanting to prove himself more of an idiot, Arkk teleported to one of the partially destroyed rooms instead. It was filled with random debris. Enough to make it look like someone might have lived here. Not that anyone even bothered to look into the room. Purifier Agnete had simply walked past the entrance a few minutes ago without so much as a turn of her head. Fires still raged up near the door. The hallway outside was completely destroyed.

It hadn’t been the intention but it was a good thing they had made the little grated tunnels between each room to help disguise the one tunnel that led back to the main fortress. Those little tunnels were the only reason he could count this space as his territory at the moment. Implementing them into the main fortress seemed like a must after everything was over just so that if something similar happened again, he would be able to teleport around the disconnected areas.

For now, however, Arkk had to focus.

Sweat beaded down his face the moment he appeared. When he had pulled the orcs out of the way of the purifier just a second too slow, it felt like he had walked into a blacksmith’s forge. Here, it felt like he had thrown himself into the kiln. Even from across the room, it felt like his exposed skin was being burned and even his clothes were starting to smolder.

The fires were still raging and that was what Arkk wanted, intense heat aside. He pulled out the chilly marble, using his sleeve to keep it from directly touching his fingers, and felt immediate relief. The room didn’t turn cold, exactly, but it shifted closer to a hot and stifling day than a kiln. Approaching the red-white glow, he waved the marble around. The flames did fade somewhat but didn’t fully extinguish. They certainly didn’t diminish enough that Arkk would have felt safe going anywhere near the person controlling the fire.

When he had been watching the inquisitors before the ambush, the marble had been floating above Vrox’s hand as he walked along a fair distance behind Agnete. The fires near him had gone out completely and instantly. There was more to this artifact than simply waving it about.

Arkk wasn’t sure how to make the marble float but he could try pushing a little of his magic into it. Just a touch. Like he would with a ritual circle that he really didn’t want to explode.

The temperature around him plummeted. Frost formed on Arkk’s breath as he failed to suppress a shudder. Most important of all, the fires winked out of existence almost immediately.

Teleporting to a room closer to Agnete with far more intense flames, Arkk tried the same thing again. Just a touch of magic sent out a wave of bitter cold that sapped the heat from the room and snuffed out the fire in an instant. Even with his tunic in the way, his fingers still felt numb. Still, that was a minor problem compared to the turbulent flame witch.

Taking a deep breath of the frigid air, Arkk teleported again. This time, he reappeared just in front of the wall of flames in the corridor the purifier was marching down.

The heat from before couldn’t compare. He couldn’t come up with a comparison. What was hotter than a kiln? Hell itself? Demons stoking the flames around his feet?

Gritting his teeth, he poured a little more magic into the marble and relished in the winter breeze that blew through the corridor.

He was the only one. Behind an impenetrable wall of flames and heat haze, a blood-curdling scream echoed out. Not a cry of rage or frustration. A cry of fear and terror. One sweeping wave of fire lashed out at Arkk but the ice marble stopped it well before it could reach him. Pouring a little more power into the marble was enough to bring down the fire and the temperature. With a hiss, the haze dispersed.

The purifier wasn’t on her feet. She was on the ground, curled up in a tight ball and shaking violently. It was cold, true, but only enough that Arkk thought he needed a light cloak now that he wasn’t pushing magic into the marble. The purifier’s clothes had burned away, leaving her entirely naked, but even then it wasn’t cold enough to send someone to the ground. Arkk watched a moment. Her eyes, wide and darting back and forth, lacked the glow he had seen in them before. The scars on her face—and the rest of her body—still looked like faint embers underneath her skin but even that was rapidly fading.

Lips pressed together, Arkk teleported away, dropped the marble off on the desk in his room, and then teleported back. He maintained his distance, just in case, but there wasn’t too much danger. He could feel the marble through the [HEART]. It was his property now, meaning he could instantly retrieve it if he ever needed it. For the moment, he didn’t think he did.

The chill in the partially ruined corridor didn’t vanish entirely in the absence of the marble. It did fade. Slowly, at first, but the heat started to come back in short order. Arkk wasn’t sure if that was natural or if the purifier was doing something. Her scars and her eyes were starting to regain their usual glow.

Crouching down, Arkk watched and waited until her violent trembling subsided. She still remained on the ground, curled up, but at least her eyes were snapping back and forth in terror.

What now?

Arkk stared, wondering if he should just leave or perhaps send her back the way she came. Then he recalled Vrox’s words from earlier, how worried the man had been about losing control of Agnete, and the fact that he had called her that thing. An idea started to form in Arkk’s mind. A smart idea? Not particularly. Still, if it worked…

“Are you alright?” Arkk asked, raising his voice to be heard from a distance.

The faint embers in the back of her eyes shifted as she locked her gaze on Arkk. It was such a sudden and deliberate shift that he wasn’t sure if she had even noticed him before. She didn’t answer him, however, just sitting on the ground with her arms still wrapped around her legs.

Arkk grabbed a thick blanket from the fortress, teleported forward, dropped it over her, then teleported back. All in the blink of an eye.

She sat up slowly, drawing the blanket around her. Arkk just watched from a distance, thinking to himself.

He wished they had that magic-nullifying prison that Vezta had mentioned. Initially, when he had first come up with the plan to deceive the inquisitors, he had thought to send them all away with the impression that he had abandoned this area.

Now, the purifier brought up some interesting questions and possibilities. If Vezta was right and she was some servant of one of the Pantheon, and not the traitors, that alone made him curious about her. Then, as someone always looking to turn situations to his advantage, Arkk couldn’t dismiss that she was likely a powerful spellcaster. Given that he needed one more powerful caster and their rarity, he couldn’t just look away and let her go without at least trying.

The problem was whether or not she was loyal to the inquisitors. He doubted it but that didn’t necessarily mean that she would be up to turning on them. Even with that marble at hand, Arkk wasn’t willing to let such a powerful and destructive person remain anywhere near him. The employment bond would keep her from attacking him without any warning but those flames were destructive enough that even that would make him a little nervous.

Assuming she was open to employment in the first place.

“Are you alright?” Arkk tried again. The purifier didn’t respond. She sat and she stared, leaving Arkk with little to do but sigh. Would he get an honest answer if he simply asked about her loyalty to the inquisitors?

She wasn’t talking at all. He wouldn’t get any answer at this rate.

“The inquisitors are back the way you came,” Arkk said, nodding his head down the corridor. “They fell down a pit, lost their ice marble, and while they probably came out ahead in the ambush I set for them, they still lost overall. I doubt they’ll be too happy…”

Arkk trailed off, noting a gradual rise in temperature along with an intensifying glow in the purifier’s eyes. He almost grabbed the marble again but held off for just a moment. It didn’t seem like she was attacking him. She was still on the floor, simmering but hardly moving.

“I get the impression that the inquisitors aren’t too fond of you. They treat you more like an attack dog on a leash, don’t they? Now that they don’t have that leash anymore, what will they do? Lock you up? Kill you?” He paused for a response. Still none came. “I’m really not interested in a conflict with the inquisitors so I’m abandoning this place,” he lied. “Maybe if you went and told them you forced me out, that would grant you some leniency? Or…

“Maybe you would be interested in a change of employer?”

That got an actual reaction out of her. Not much of one. The black shadows of ash around her eyes stretched as her eyebrows quirked upward. Was that interest?

“I have an associate,” Arkk said, hoping he had more to entice her with, “who claims to know where your powers over fire come from. She would be most interested in discussing the matter with you.”

Her lips, darkened like the skin around her eyes, parted. She whispered but it carried. “You hold my leash.”

“True,” Arkk said, not bothering to deny it. “I don’t know you. I don’t know if you’ll go on a rampage the moment you get the chance. It makes obvious sense to have insurance. I don’t know how the inquisitors handled it but if you don’t attack my employees or my property, I see little reason to have to use it.” Pulling a gold coin from his treasury, he held it up. “You’ll also get paid for services rendered. I don’t know what the inquisitors pay you but I’m quite sure I can double it.” Remembering what Vezta said her alleged patron’s name was, the Burning Forge, he added, “We also have a lovely forge set up that we can expand at will if that suits your interests.”

The purifier closed her eyes, breathed out in a way that caused her face to shimmer in the heat haze, and then slowly stood up. She left the blanket dangling loose and open over her shoulders. “You offer no choice.”

“There’s always a choice. Go with the inquisitors. Run away. Try—”

“None are choice. I will be hunted. I will be imprisoned. If they fail to recover my leash, I will be killed.”

“Ah. Well, I’m not willing to give that up.” He held up his gold coin. “Just this.”

“No choice,” she whispered then held out a hand. “I must accept.”

Arkk pressed his lips together. He already had Savren as a mostly unwilling minion. The orcs as well, technically, though he was pretty sure they had gotten over their change in employer. Most had been all too happy to sign up after he killed their old chieftain. Still, he wasn’t too sure that he wanted another reluctant employee. Yet the benefits of having her with him were… too great to ignore. Her fires were strong and her magical capacity had to be great enough for the ritual. Besides that, it was an insult to the inquisitors, taking their strongest caster. And, importantly, he didn’t feel that great about sending someone back to them who was just going to be killed for nothing.

Teleporting forward, Arkk placed the golden coin in her outstretched hand. It immediately started to melt in her clutch, drooping around the edges while the maze-like pattern on the face blended into a golden slurry. Bits dripped from between her fingers, splashing to the ground below before she managed to rein herself in. Using both hands, she mushed the semi-solid remains back together and then rolled her palms against each other, eventually opening her hand to reveal a lumpy sphere.

“It was probably worth more as a coin,” Arkk said slowly. They could probably feed it to one of the lesser servants to turn it back into a proper coin.

“Sorry.”

Arkk tested the employee link between them and found it to be secure and snug. He shook his head, dismissing her worry. “It was mostly symbolic. I’m wealthy enough that one coin—”

“What was that?” she whispered, the glow in her eyes deepening as she stared around at the ceiling and walls.

“You felt that? That’s a first.”

As if following some invisible thread in the air, she brought her eyes back down to Arkk. “What did you do?”

“I possess a magical artifact that forms a link between myself and my employees. It primarily lets me teleport you around as I teleport myself around.”

“I feel a strange magic,” she said, looking down at her black fingernails. Arkk wasn’t sure if they were painted black or if they had been burned that way. “Yet… familiar?”

“It does seem to increase the magical capacity of some of the employees.”

“Forbidden magic. Like my own.”

Arkk shrugged at that. “Maybe. I don’t know. Never went to a proper magic academy.” He paused. “Is that a problem?”

“I cannot… It soothes, in some way.” Agnete hesitated for a long moment before shaking her head. “We are already hunted.”

“That is… certainly a way of looking at it. I hope to shake the inquisitors off our tails for now, at least. Buy us some breathing room. If you know of any method of tracking us and how to avoid it, that would be excellent.” Arkk beckoned with a hand. “Several were injured in the fight with the inquisitors but my chief warlock made it out alright. I’m sure she would be interested in hearing about how the inquisitors function.”

“I have limited information. Darius does not often involve me in operations.”

“Still, whatever you have is more than we had before.” He paused and then glanced down. “Though maybe we should get you some clothes beforehand. So let’s do that first. I need to take care of the injured and, after, we’ll see about setting you up with some living quarters.”

“Living… quarters?”

“A home? Room to yourself? A place to live.”

“That wasn’t my question. You said you were abandoning this place.”

“Ah.” Arkk’s smile froze in place. “Yes. That is true. This place,” he said, pointing at the ground. Just in case she planned on betraying him, he didn’t want to tell her absolutely everything just yet. “I’m going to teleport you now so don’t be surprised.”

In the blink of an eye, they reappeared in the tailor room. The one humanoid lesser servant appeared as well, pulled from the false fortress where it had been helping the others dig.

Agnete stared around, eyes roaming over the bolts of cloth in the walls and the machines for making attire. “Forbidden…”

“So I heard. Anyway, this one will get you some clothes. I need to see to my people.” He turned but paused—entirely for effect rather than out of necessity. “Please don’t burn everything down.”

“I shall try.”

Figuring that was as good as he was going to get, Arkk nodded his head and teleported away.

He hadn’t mentioned to any of his minions that he could observe them through the employee link. It was a good test, he figured, to watch what she did when left on her own. The ice marble was a thought away, so he would be able to step in before she could manage too much damage. If she did start burning things down, there wasn’t much of value there. The room could be rebuilt with an expenditure of gold and the lesser servant… He would feel bad but better a lesser servant than one of his proper employees.

He reappeared in front of Ilya, who had pulled up her shirt and was prodding some of the black slime left behind by Vezta’s ministrations just above her navel. He thought he had gotten her wound pretty well patched up but Vezta must have disagreed. Noticing him, Ilya quickly tugged the shirt back down and then shot him a glare. Arkk almost chuckled at the difference between the stoic flame witch and the red creeping over Ilya’s cheeks. She hadn’t even pulled her shirt up that high. He managed to stop himself before he started, realizing that laughing at her would be a most regrettable mistake.

Instead, he sat down on the chair next to her. “Are you alright?”

“This feels gross and weird,” she said, rubbing the same spot through her clothes. A bit of black trailed from her fingers as she pulled her hand away, making her grimace in disgust. “And it is going to ruin my clothes. Maybe we should look into hiring proper healers?”

“That would mean going to clergy. I don’t think anyone associated with the church is going to be happy working with us.”

“Yeah. Lovely. Can’t there be some bandit priest out there?”

Arkk did laugh at that. “I’ll keep an eye out.”

“The pain is gone, at least. Is it going to be enough for Dakka and the others?”

Arkk turned his head to the still statue of the wounded orc with a frown. “I hope so. Combined with Flesh Weaving, I imagine they’ll be alright. Hurt, yes, but alright.” His eyes lingered on the gaping wound in Dakka’s shoulder before he looked back to Ilya. “In other news, I might have hired that purifier.”

“You… When did you manage that?”

“Just now. She’s getting some clothes with the tailor at the moment.”

Or… something like that. The lesser servant was trying to take measurements but the purifier had started poking and prodding it. Much to the lesser servant’s chagrin. It even tried biting her finger but the purifier just flicked it off. At least nothing was on fire.

Ilya dropped her voice to a hushed whisper, one that even Arkk had to strain to hear. “First the gorgon and now that witch? I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Arkk put on a wide grin. “Ilya, you should know best: I have no idea what I’m doing.”