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Chapter 2: The Witch
Part 4
“Right,” said June. The crowd was riveted on her again. Was it fear? Curiosity? She wondered how many managed to get close to the Roythans living in this part of the world. How many knew how powerless they were against a cycled aspectral person?
She peered around for something that would make for good effect. Spotting the big slicers on Drigg’s back, she said, “Toss me one of those.”
Drigg laughed, then caught a glare from Bettine.
“These are family,” he said. Bettine scowled, and looked back at June, shaking her head.
“Here,” said Ottrah. He unsheathed his blade, flipped and caught it on the sharp side, and handed it out for her.
“Thanks,” said June, taking it. Its lightness surprised her.
She looked back to the flap, where her two bodyguards still stood at attention. She pointed at the bigger one with her new toy, and said, “Now you. Come up here and fight me.”
For once, she pleased the crowd. There were hoots, laughter and excited babbling. The bodyguard looked abashed for a minute, and she could see him checking with Bettine before he joined them.
“What kind of rules do you run here?” June asked no one in particular. She took this opportunity to loosen the maddening rope in her hair. It came undone, and she repressed a sigh of relief as a bulk of her locks freed themselves.
“Limbs only, three small slash or one big for victory,” suggested Ottrah, who studied her closely. She wondered what sort of ridiculous form her mane had taken.
“Deal. Ready buddy?” She spun her crystal loop a little faster, and it tugged the little strand from the town. This fed her an extra cycle or two, and her opponent’s outline grew a faint azure hue. He’d not be able to see it; too bad for him.
The goon still seemed a little put off, given the sudden reversal of his role. But she saw the pattern of his intended move—the glowing outline floated in wisps off his back leg and right arm like smoke, gathering to where he’d shift his weight and body. As the wisps brightened, she kicked the loop up another notch. At the same time, she let go of the repressive Bodyanchor Artwork that kept her light in.
Ultramarine beams bloomed out from the seams in her leather getup; her eyes washed out in the same hue. A collective gasp erupted from the audience.
The goon had readied his big, broad blade and was in the process of stabbing out at her, but she was already twirling past him, guided by the little wisps. She decided not to have a swipe at him as she moved past; she hadn’t used a physical weapon in combat in a very long time and didn’t want to unintentionally remove his arm.
Before she could steady her footing, the brute was twirling himself, with a swing that looked like it was going for the ‘one big slash’ victory. She ducked it, but it came too close for comfort. To his credit, he did not seem fazed by her lightshow. It was time to end this wonderment before she got herself killed.
She channeled her cycle into Distanska Artwork and pushed a puff out, knocking the bodyguard back a few paces. Bettine had to sidestep him to avoid an awkward collision. The spectators booed.
They’re going to like this even less, I suspect, thought June.
The strand from the town held fast, so she pulled a little harder from it and found the rhythm for Icevein. Big Boy steadied himself, and her wispy friends suggested a brutal charge. Before he could get the balance to do it, she pushed the Icevein into his limbs. He cried out and crumpled in a heap. The booing came to an abrupt halt.
Both her crystals shone bright, straining from the Icevein’s effort. She looked up at the tent’s canvas ceiling, which was bathed in shimmering blue patterns.
She knelt beside her fallen guard and used the blade to trace three little scratches on his bulky shoulder. She released the Icevein and tossed the thing back to Ottrah. He caught it one handed, without taking his eyes off her.
“Happy?” she asked him.
From behind her: “Very good little witch, but could you dodge this?”
Junelight spun to find herself staring straight down Bettine’s silver device. It ended in a little black hole. But her wisps were still with her, and when they floated around Bettine, there was no telling motion in her hand or fingers—assuming that one used their hands to operate it. It was more theatre. Hopefully. June slowed her crystals and put energy back into Bodyanchor, and the tent returned to the dull amber glimmer of torchlight.
“No,” said June. “Which is why you need more of those if you’re ever going to defend yourself from witches like me.”
Bettine grinned like a wolf, and turned to the stunned onlookers. She put away her weapon and strode past the bodyguard, who picked himself up and rubbed his arms.
“The witch says true,” said Bettine. “We must find this thief. We must end the perversion this thief intends, lest our own tools be bent against us. From each of you, bring forth two-thirds of your triad’s able-bodied fighters, trackers, hunters, and Seedwind. From those, we shall select a further two-thirds and assemble a force capable of penning in this so-called Poacher.”
The gathering failed to protest.
“We are done,” said the Head of Spark. “Ottrah of Bit shall lead the organization. Hey-Ha!”
A flurry of fists struck sternums, Bettine marched offstage, and June kept her gaze trained on the exiting procession, lest the rest of them catch her smile.
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