The Knight and the Witch - Charles Lankiwicz (simple ebook reader .txt) 📗

The Knight and the Witch

 

Sir Ronald Strongarm reined in his horse and looked up at the keep on the hill. It looked forlorn and deserted, partially in ruins, accentuated by the gloomy overcast sky. Behind him was the dark forest of Mirewood through which he had just come. He had thought to shorten his journey to the city of Kondar, but was now regretting his decision to go through the forest instead of taking the High Road. A cold wind cut into him and he resolved to try to at least find some shelter in the keep for the night.

He was a tall man, broad in the shoulder and slim in the waist. His almost white hair framed a sharp featured face with piercing blue eyes, which had seen many a battle with the lords he had served under. His features would have been considered handsome except for a scar that creased it on his left cheek from just to the left of his eye down to the corner of his mouth.

His steed, Volant, too had served in many battles with Strongarm. He was a large warhorse with heavy legs and a strong back with a dark brown coat. He had been bred not for speed but for power to carry his armored master into battle. Which was fortunate as his master had no extra packhorses to carry his supplies and armor, as well as lacking a squire. He had fallen on hard times and hoped to find a good lord in Kondar to serve under and pay him a decent wage.

The road now slanted upward towards the entrance of the keep. Volant had to dig his feet to make progress. It would be difficult indeed to assault this keep he thought were it under siege.

As he came closer, he felt a sense of being watched. The windows in the keep looked like the hollowed sockets of an ancient skull, its crenelation like jagged teeth. As he neared he saw painted on the crumbling wall a strange symbol that disturbed him somehow. Oh well, he thought, I’ll just be here for the night and gone tomorrow.

“Sirrah, may I help you?” said a feminine voice.

Strongarm nearly fell out of his saddle and instinctively grabbed the hilt of his sword in surprise. Standing before him was a beautiful peasant girl.

For an instant he was befuddled, then said: “How is it that a fair maid like yourself is in a place like this?”

“Oh, I and my servant were chased by bandits and we have come here for safety. I am glad that a stalwart knight like yourself, has come to our rescue.”

At that moment another woman appeared. She was the ugliest crone that he had ever saw. Her hair was white and straggly; her skin a mass of wrinkles, her eyes almost sunk into her head, her back bent and her hands more like claws with long claw-like finger nails. To be sure, she looked more like a witch than a servant to Strongarm.

“Come inside Sirrah. We have little but you are welcome to it,” said the maid.

Strongarm went inside the keep and dismounted. He noticed that Volant seemed nervous.

“Steady there–we’re safe in here fellow,” he said to his horse. But Volant’s eye’ss still rolled nervously.

He took off his saddle and began to lead the horse to a trough, but Volant still seemed skittish.

“Alright then–do what you want,” said Strongarm as he walked away from the horse. He was tired and wanted food and rest.

Looking about, he saw that the inside of the keep was in no better condition then the outside. It’s wall were ruined and tumbling and weeds were everywhere. A feeling of disquiet came upon him; there was something in the air...

At that point he saw the crone looking at him from an opening. He felt an instinctive repulsion at her appearance. He was about to turn away when something made him stop. Looking at her, there was a look in her eyes and she seemed to want to tell him something.

He approached closer and she tried to speak but only sounds came from her mouth. She tried to grab him with her hand.

“Stop that you–you’ll be punished for this!” said the maid who came into the courtyard.

The maid grabbed a piece of wood and advanced upon the crone, fire flashing into her eyes.

“Hold!” said Strongarm. “I’m sure that she meant no harm. It was my fault for going to her.

The maid still swung the wood and hit the crone across her back, causing her to quiver.

“She’ll not bother you again I’ll warrant!” said the maid.

Looking into her eyes, Strongarm saw an intense hate that shocked him. It looked at though she had wanted to kill the crone.

Just as suddenly, the look left her face and she smiled at Strongarm. “Come Sirrah, and enjoy my humble offering of food and drink.”

The meal was humble but good, consisting of bread, cheese and meat. At the end Strongarm, reached for a goblet of wine and began to drink it.

The crone suddenly reached for it and tried to grab it out of his hand. The maid lashed out at her, striking her hard in the face with her hand.

“Slut, you’ll pay for this,” shrieked the maid, a look of hate in her eyes.

“Hold!” said Strongarm. “There’s no harm done. I still have the wine.” With that he drank it down, noticing a bitter, vile taste as he did so. He looked towards the maid and saw a triumphant look in her eyes and then he lost consciousness.

 

 

He awoke later with a splitting headache. He sat up and found himself in a dirty room with little light.

He went towards the door and found it locked. With a roar he charged it and tried to break it down, but it was solid. He yelled but there was no answer.

Sitting down he thought. What have I gotten into? Why should I be here a prisoner? What am I going to do?

Later he heard a scratching at the door. Looking up, he could see, dimly, a face. He got up and went to the small opening. One there he saw that it was the crone looking at him.

“What have you done? Why am I here?” he bellowed.

The crone put her finger to her mouth for silence and then opened the door. Strongarm immediately charged out and slammed the door open, knocking the crone down.

At that moment the maid appeared. This time she had a staff in her hand and a look of intense hate.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 “So the bitch has released you but it will do you no good. You are mine! I have weakened you with a potion and now I can do what I want and take your life force from you for my own!”

For a moment Strongarm was dumbfounded at the change in the maid, but then he realized, thinking on what he had observed, who the real witch was.

“I will kill you witch–you shall not have me for your vile uses!”

With a laugh she aimed the staff and a bolt of blue fire burst forth and held Strongarm prisoner. He fought against it but no longer had the strength due to the potion he had drunk. He went to his knees.

Then the blue fire stopped and he was free. He fell to his knees and looked up.

The crone had a rock in her hand and the maid lay dead in front of her, her head smashed in.

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

As he looked a change appeared in both. The maid’s face began to fade and age, the skin wrinkling, the eyes smaller and deeper set, the nose longer and pointed down, and the chin very sharp. Meanwhile the exact opposite was happening with the crone, her skin became smoother, the eyes larger, the mouth fuller and the hair dark and lustrous. This happened in seconds and the only thing that connected them to their former selves was the cloths each wore, the rags of the crone and the peasant costume of the maid.

Strongarm was dumbfounded; he thought that the witch’s potion was making him see things.

“Sirrah, I am so glad that you are alright and that I’m back to my former self. This is the witch Banei. She tricked me in the woods to helping her and once she had a hold of me she used her evil to transfer my life essence to hers. She had to keep me alive to make the change work and she wanted a slave as well. Men she also traps, but just to drain their strength and steal their goods. I could not attack her alone. When she went after you she was distracted enough for me to act.”

Strongarm sat down in amazement at what had happened and still felt weak due to the potion. “Well, I too am glad to free you, but I need rest now before I can go on. Without you I would be done for.”

“I shall help you to recover and rest,” said the maid with a smile.

 

The End

 

 

Imprint

Text: Charles Lankiwicz
Images: Charles Lankiwicz
Cover: Charles Lankiwicz
Editing: Charles Lankiwicz
Translation: Charles Lankiwicz
Layout: Charles Lankiwicz
Publication Date: 02-16-2018

All Rights Reserved

Dedication:
This story was inspired in part by George R. Martins stories of the Hedge Knight.