The Witch of Clevwood’s Ruins

"Burn her alive, there is no time to put together a court, then burn her house too and make her family disappear. No one could be innocent if they are close to that witch."

"Yes sir Donovan."

"I recommend discretion. We certainly do not want to cause problems for our king, do we? "

"Of course not sir."

"Well, now I'll take care of the questioning. You can go."

The man looked at me from behind the bars and his eyes glittered with a sickly interest, a fatal curiosity: he took a step towards the bars, stroked the iron and whispered poisonous words, aimed to hurt me. I was not fully conscious, but I would never forget that devilish grin and that disturbing tic that made the right corner of his mouth tremble.

Sooner or later I would have avenged myself for all the harm he had done to me and my family. Sooner or later I would have killed him.

***

I raised my fingertips to the bars and they bent as I wanted. I smiled.

I slowly advanced and crossed the iron that held me captive, moving my eyes to the stone corridor in front of me, to make sure there was no one there. I could breathe a sigh of relief for the moment: I couldn't hear footsteps, not even the labored breathing of some busy guard or the moans of desperate prisoners.

I watched the rags they had made me wear, now almost in tatters, rubbing against the floor and my dirty hands trembling with anger: that noise, that rubbing, reminded me of that man, with his long purple toga and his mocking smile. How I would enjoy seeing the terror in his eyes and his blood on my fingers.

I reached the wooden stairs that would lead me outside the dungeons; I was amazed by the dead silence that not only inhabited the prison but also the outside: I had seen many cells left open, empty, something inexplicable to my eyes. Maybe something had happened or it was just my impression. The only way to know would have been to get out.

I opened the door slowly, to make sure it didn't make too much noise: I was even more surprised when in the middle of the square in front of my eyes, I saw massed bodies and the rubble of what must have been a battle. Small piles of ash and charred wood were scattered around the place, the smell immediately reaching my nostrils, making me grimace.

I threw open the door and reached the square, still being cautious and looking around the place: blood dripped from the stone pavement and stained the cobblestones, the tattered clothes of the corpses and their partially mutilated faces. The smell of blood and the dead was unbearable, so I tore up my dust"soiled sleeve and used it as a handkerchief to keep the stench of the square from reaching my nose.

I didn't have time to think, I just had to act.

I decided to follow my instincts: get away from there immediately and look for a place to live and then plan my revenge. I quickly entered some houses to get what could be useful for my journey, without feeling ashamed of my raids, then in a house from the upper zone of the village I found food, a small tank to carry the water and clean clothes that I could use later. Hanging from the wall I saw a big and oval mirror; I was used seeing smaller ones around because they were easier for merchants to carry, moreover they were cheap, they could also be purchased by the poorest workers.

I looked in the mirror and put my hands to my hair, stroking it and turning the dark locks around my long, thin fingers: I had always liked to wear them long, they reached my mid-back, wavy and soft despite the mistreatment; I quickly took a dagger that I had found on a corpse, I brought it close to my hair and, after having collected it in my hand, in one stroke I cut it. I collected the remains of my hair by gathering them in a bag that I had found around and looked at my reflection one last time: now it reached my shoulders and I felt better with less weight.

After I washed myself with water from the well and put on some clean clothes, finally ready to go away: I had taken some black men's trousers, tying them with a belt on the narrow waist, and a white women's shirt, covering my shoulders with a dark"hooded cloak. The rest of the clothes were in a large bag, along with food and the necessary for the trip.

I was leaving the village where I had lived my whole life: I turned and looked one last time at those ruins and all the devastation, the destroyed houses, the remains of the fire with the ashes from wood and corpses, huddled together and finally the prison now open.

A tear ran down my cheek and I wiped it away in a hurry. That day I should have left everything behind, but it seemed impossible, because I could not forget everything that had happened, what I had suffered.

"Mommy, mommy..."

Some moans caught my attention and turning my eyes to a small pile of bodies arranged at the side of the entrance, I saw a child trying to free himself from the weight of a corpse towering above him. Perhaps his body belonged to her mother who had tried to save him by throwing him under her once she was pierced by a sword.

"Help..!"

I went over and when the child saw me he raised his hand to the sky, asking for support. I looked at him a little undecided and his awful appearance made me feel sorry for him: "Help please! "

He must have been 12; his hair was wet with blood and his face was as dirty as the clothes he wore. I recognized him. I grabbed his hand firmly and helped him free himself from the pile and then lowered myself beside him, looking at his trembling, frail body. His little eyes looked at me pleadingly as he sobbed.

"Do you remember me? " I asked him calmly and with an icy tone.

"Yes ... I'm sorry, sorry"me ... please! "He pleaded.

"In the houses you will find enough food and water in the well, but if you stay here, I cannot guarantee you that you will live. Anyone who did this could go back" I told him seriously, freeing me from his grip when he grabbed my arm to hold me back.

"Do not leave me!"

"Boy, when you denounced me you knew exactly what you were doing ... do not come to ask me for help now... it makes me really angry" I spat these words with a spirited look, frightening the child who ran away screaming and crying. I had no compassion to give to anyone, I would not have been selfless. Was I wrong? Was it wrong if I didn't help my tormentors? Because destruction and tragedies came because of them. It was their fault.

A little later I was on the road, looking at Clevwood's village from afar. I was aware of the dangers that I could meet on my way, but for the moment everything seemed still. I should only have worried about regaining the strength that I had lost and trying to understand what had happened to me: unfortunately I had lost part of the memory concerning my incarceration. I had to remember, otherwise how could it be possible for me to go on? My enemies could be everywhere.

At the end of the road that led to Clevwood and connected with the main road that led to the capital, I reached down and put my hand on the ground, concentrating on what I wanted to do: in the distance I heard horses,perhaps a troop, I could count about four riders and about ten foot soldiers. My eyes narrowed with the effort: I didn't have my full strength yet.

What if they were the group that destroyed my village? Was I supposed to follow them and understand what their intention was and who they worked for? Despite my insatiable curiosity, I decided that it would be better to get away from the place as soon as possible, so as not to risk being killed by the soldiers, whoever they were.

It had been weeks since I went outside the dungeons and I could only deduce that the threats of the neighboring country progressed into a war: Clevwood was in Fokranstad's kingdom, bordered by Athenarte, an expanding empire, powerful and rich. I was ignorant about the intentions of the invading country's leaders and that put me at a distinct disadvantage; in the worst situation I could have taken refuge in the nearby woods: this was my home and at least I knew more about this place than my potential enemies.

I really didn't care what happened to these lands: most of Fokranstad's lords were corrupt, unjust and unscrupulous men, not to mention King Ferguso III who loved to surround himself with women, wine and money. He only brought disasters and devastation to his own people and hated the mass: from what I had heard around, our despotic and insane ruler had also massacred the villages that had not been able to pay their monthly taxes, without worrying about the fact that his demands were unreasonable, especially during a famine. He was worse than the brigands and everyone hated him, myself included. Seeing him killed by his enemies would have been the best thing that could have happened to this kingdom's people.

"Stop the horses! "

"Stop, order! "

I was traveling through the woods, so as not to be noticed by the soldiers, but suddenly I heard their voices closer than I expected and I had to wait silently in order to understand what was happening. I looked curiously at the military group, hidden in the bushes, at least twenty meters from the road to the capital of Fokranstad. I saw various knights, just as I had feared, but I never expected to see a woman leading the group: she wore a wonderful golden armor with refined decorations on her bust and a shining sword with gems set on the silver handle. I saw nothing else from my position but when the woman pulled out her blade and stood looking at it, I was struck by the light reflected from the exceptionally bright surface.

"You!" The woman's voice broke out loudly when she noticed me and I started running into the woods, cursing me for not walking away immediately. She shouted orders and the riders began to chase me: the horses galloped swiftly, neighed loudly, and I knew it wouldn't be long before I was caught up. I jumped off a log and threw myself on the ground behind a large fallen tree and listened to the sound of the rapidly approaching hooves.

"Here!"

A horse jumped over the log behind which I was hiding and I also saw the other two riders running in the same direction. Only the woman was missing and my instincts told me that she had stayed behind on purpose to find out where I had fled: despite this, I could not stay in the same place too long and I decided to follow another direction.

But when I jumped out of hiding, a hand grabbed my cloak and threw me forcefully against the ground. I raised my eyes in time to see a blade descending on me.

Could it be the end for me?

____________ A/N

I'm changing the symbols for dialogues. Soon all dialogues will have " ".