The Watchers Book 1: Knight of Light

Chapter Three: Hazella's Power

Autumn leaves crunched under my bare feet. Despite the hideous scar on my calf, my leg had healed well since the wolf attack last spring.

Yet, even though the wound looked better, I flexed my feet back and stretched the repairing tendons and muscles each night. I still walked with a marked limp, but soon I would be able to run again.

I swung an empty bucket in my hand and enjoyed the crisp air as I walked to the stream. Like magic, the summer had changed to autumn; and, despite my situation, I sensed a magical change was about to happen in my own life as well. My heart burned in anticipation.

“Hurry up, girl!” Hazella screeched from the cottage doorway.

I quickened my pace and dropped the empty bucket into the stream. My leg should be strong enough by winter to run away, but the wolves were always hungry and the most aggressive during the winter. That meant I would have to wait until next spring.

“Ye better hurry,” Hazella yelled again. “Them wolves eat bad children who wander too far from home.”

I wanted to be cheeky and say, “Then it’s a good thing I’m not a child,” but I wouldn’t let myself take a chance of standing up to her. I had to keep pretending to be the victim. The old woman had the strength of an army and the mind of a lunatic. Catching Hazella off guard was the only way I could escape.

I seized the pail from the stream and hobbled dramatically so Hazella wouldn’t know how well I was healing. Water sloshed in my bucket, but I tried my best not to spill. I knew if I lost even a drop Hazella would shriek like a banshee until noon.

Hazella’s dugout cottage blended in with the forested landscape. Only the smoky stone chimney made its own statement—sticking prominently out of the knoll. Grasses and wildflowers grew along the roof and up the hill. Autumn leaves whirled around me in a dance. I took long deep breaths, soaking in the sights and smells of the crisp, deep woods before I would have to go back into the dark underground prison.

Hazella stood in the doorway with her familiar scowl. She tapped her foot and clenched a limber reed in her hand.

I made my expression solemn, bit my lip, and lowered my head.

Hazella swatted the reed across my legs. “Enough of yer lazy day dreamin’. There be no time ta waste, girl.”

I repressed the sting and set the bucket next to the pile of firewood. The door to the back room hung open on its worn hinges. I peered into the forbidden room, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever mystery Hazella hid in there.

Hazella stepped in front of my gaze and slammed the door shut. Dirt sprinkled down from the ceiling. I lowered my head to protect my eyes from the debris. Hazella’s wrinkled face flamed into a red scowl. The witch waved her arms and shouted a line of profanities while pointing to things in the cottage that needed to be cleaned, refilled, or repaired.

“In the villages they boil and behead people that be lazy, foolish, and troublemakin’.” Hazella gripped the dull axe and hurled it at me. The heavy blade propelled through the air.

I dropped to the ground and covered my head with my hands. The axe whizzed past my ear and struck the rotting wall with a thud. Wood chips showered my hair and bounced off the dirt floor.

I looked at the axe, buried deep in the wood, and I clenched my hands into fists. The axe could easily have split my skull instead of imbedding itself in the wall.

Leaving the cottage during the winter didn’t seem like such a bad idea after all. Frustration burned in my chest. I shouldn’t be here and didn’t deserve to be treated like an animal–worse than an animal. If my leg hadn’t been injured, I would have run away last spring when I came to this retched hole in the ground. I blinked hard and focused on fighting back angry tears. Crying only made Hazella irate.

“Ye must work extra hard today, girl,” Hazella threatened. “I be havin’ a delivery fer the villages tomorrow.”

“A delivery?” I perked up. Was Hazella finally leaving me unguarded at the cottage? I wasn’t strong enough to run away this time, but maybe when Hazella returned and saw me still at the cottage she would leave me alone for a longer period next time. That’s when I would escape.

Hazella pointed a withered finger at me. “If I don’t get them potions ta the villages in time, people will die, and it’ll be yer fault.”

I rose to my feet, pressed my back to the wall next to the axe, and glanced at the door.

Hazella lunged forward and shook her fist in my face. “If ye wish ta die, feel free ta leave the cottage. There be plagues in the villages so terrible men fall on their swords ta be free of their sufferin’. There be wars between them villagers. Men kill each other in mass slaughters ‘cause they be hungry, and there be not enough food ta go around.” Hazella’s eyes shifted erratically. “No, I wouldn’t set foot in the villages if I didn’t need the gold. It be no place fer a child.”

I clenched my jaw. The village I had come from wasn’t that bad, although they did boil people they thought were witches … like me. A wave of hopelessness rushed over me as I remembered how I was betrayed by my own village. I bit my lip. My own village. I no longer had a home to escape to. I was truly alone. “I’m sorry,” I murmured to Hazella.

“No, yer not. Yer never sorry.” Hazella pulled a heavy book from the shelf above the fireplace. She flipped through the worn, yellowing pages and squinted to see the faded ink. She never bothered to re-scribe the book, because she wanted to destroy it after she memorized her recipes. Hazella muttered the words under her breath as she pointed to the shelf, “Fetch me them toad toes.”

I limped to the shelf and retrieved a jar. Hazella examined the jar before sprinkling the toes into the bowl. I plugged my nose and squinted. Hopefully, I would never get sick with whatever this potion cured.

Hazella mixed the ingredients together. She poured it into a glass bottle before handing it to me. “Now put this in my bag fer the trip ta the villages.”

I set the potion into the bag. “Is healing people your power?” I asked. It was an honest question. I didn’t think Hazella would actually respond.

Hazella’s eyes bulged unevenly. She turned to her book. “I can heal and destroy,” Hazella murmured. “If I be an Immortal, I’d be ten times stronger than I am now. I wouldn’t need this here necklace ta make me young.”

I watched the ruby necklace swing like a pendulum as Hazella bent over the book. How could she think the necklace made her look young?

“I don’t think the necklace is working,” I said.

Wood grated against the hard-packed dirt as Hazella picked up a chair and threw it at me. I lunged to the side and huddled against the door. The chair hit the wall in an explosion of splinters. Several glass bottles fell from the shelves and shattered on the floor.

“But I be still strong,” Hazella seethed. “It’s what I have left of my hundred years of youth. I needs a new necklace.” Hazella shook the necklace as if trying to get the last ingredients out of a glass bottle. “It be the easiest way I can become an immortal bride.”

“You’re engaged?” I asked. These were dangerous questions, but Hazella seemed to be giving information freely.

Hazella shook her head. “Not yet, but once I gets my young, powerful human body, I’ll be stronger than even the Shadow Lords.”