Deal in the Dark

A witch finds herself distrraught, and needing help. But when she calls out into the woods, there is no telling who will answer.

1917, In a dusty town not too far from a well fed forest. A seldom spoken of war began. With a darkness that some believe was created in this time, others believe it was awaken, but I know it found its way there. Smelling the blood, hearing the screams, and rest assured that the same darkness follows the story I am about to tell you. 

This war was between the devotees of the witches covens of the the town and woods. And the Lycanthropes of the towns woods and those who carried on undiscovered lives in the town. Many others however lead affected by it as well, including the towns smaller inhabitants, The Fae whose homes begun to be destroyed and were forced in large numbers into migration, The Eastern Seethe of American Vampires, who lost experienced great financial loss during the course, in order to keep the land from falling to the hands of The Orderly of Nether, a foul group of a collective metallic and burning smell. While the combatants made a mess of the woods in which the preternatural resided and much of the town.

There were many surprises in the throes of the war. Witches came from wide and far, initially by foot in large covens that glowed of magic with what seemed like pet cats by the dozens (Which actually turned out to be more witches in a shape shift), and teaming with respected alchemists of the time (as well as a bit before, depending). The Lycans came in packs as well, relying on sheer brutality and combative wit to get their points across, taking mainly to slaughtering witches in the hours right before the break of dawn in droves that spread through the perimeter hardly entertaining the safety of their homes, demolishing many thoroughly, aware that witches would hide in secret corridors of their spaces. 

Skins of werewolves were splayed out between trees as testament to witch ruled areas, which in most cases acted as traps teams of werewolves would smell their way right into.

Amica is a witch, as many witches who found themselves in this war 100 years ago. Lesser known is that she played a vital role in the wolves retreat, and the victory that went to the witches. Following a deal made with a very dark presence.

Amica traveled back to her home to find not what she left, but seeing the perilous damage of what had become of her family and their home in the war. All was gone, leaving nothing but war. Devastated at the loss of her husband and two children. Being purposefully spared with evil tact while she was at a war council of which a captive witch had tipped off to an adjoined pack to, before having her whole head little less than digested. 

No less than 50 families of witches had fallen casualty to the peril of this operation in only a single night. Numbers by the hundreds of men, women, and children were left in carnage to the game o.  Crippling communities and covens of all , . 

All civility had been lost between the two, and a wolf in the heat of battle is a monstrous thing, give a wolf an even remotely human mind and insanity ensues. Many witches no longer could bear what had become, morale was low, much love was lost.

Goblins began working amongst both sides killing opposers as well as each other, depending on who was offering the most gold. Common ground of the woods were absolutely desolate of all compassion between all those who found battle upon them and Amica Whit of her late 20's now sat among the silent carnage of what her home used to be, when gradually a nonthreatening, obnoxious, slow jingling brought upon a messenger. A goblin dressed in a gaudy gold chain-mail bedazzled stones of all kind unevenly placed about it, with the exception of a solid red ruby, placed at the center of his crown resembling chain-mail helmet. He said, "If I offers you path would you's walk it" She looked at him slightly puzzled, she understood what he was saying but it was quite a paradox. "What is this you speak of goblin?" 

He broke out an ugly smile "I's offer you path, for see's you family again" in a deep Eastern European accent accustomed to goblins of the area. She drew a cursed hand toward him "How dare you speak of not what you know!" The goblin threw himself backwards to the forrest ground, tripping over into a shrub in fright of the witch and the smile grew into something much uglier and wide eyed as he let out nervous laughs "I know's someone, friend of mine. Bring you family back" Amica dropped her fists into her lap and drew her head towards them. She curled before coming up with pain and tears coming from her face. "Where is he?" she shouted. 

They walked. She had been a witch a while, and knew there were powers beyond herself, dark forces that made impossible things happen. It had chosen her. She knew well that all things, be they even beyond imagination, could come at a cost. That cost would end up being quite hefty this afternoon, she knew. But she would give it all, beyond material, just to have her family back. The goblin did not make haste, got to his feet and walked the distraught woman along an ending trail for nearly two hours, to a den that had seemed newly placed, not built but placed in an uninteresting part of the woods. She walk behind the goblin with his long footed, stubby, bouncing strides toward the entrance. There was an odd sign etched into a plank of bark, hung at the opening, "Powers be to he who is in the dark." 

They walked inside of what was no natural den at all. The presence that Amica felt was darker than she had ever felt before, and she had read the darkest of spell books, battled werewolves, and faced demons as she witnessed the conversations between them and those that resided in the confines of her own soul. She fought off fright and tears with sheer pain, anger, and hatred of the wolves and what they had done to her family, her friends, and the pain in which collected in the blood that ran through the dead land of the battlegrounds in which she called home. There was a cobblestone pavement through a candled, sconce lit tunnel that was awfully long for a den, with candles that seemed just recently lit. Then there was whistling, for a moment it sounded like 6 or 7 people, skilled, and whistling different tunes, closer and closer we got, and the goblin began grunting one of the tunes, then the tunes seemed to touch eachother, every other note, less interference from the next tune as louder and louder it got. Until it was a single, solid, loud tune and there we were. Standing behind an odd and lanky man with short blonde hair sitting at a work desk, whistling away. His legs were crossed at the knee in a somewhat contorted position. Even more odd is that he was in city attire miles away from the next town. He wore a formal vest, loafers, bowler hat on the wooden desk, and the end of a silver pocket watch chain glimmering against a whitening fire near the corner of the room, bobbing his free foot up and down. The nearly empty den smelled sweet, but as though something were rotten, and like an animal. The latter may have been a medium sized midnight black dog laying with his paws crossed under his head and his eyes closed facing toward us, sitting next to the man as he whistled away, writing something on paper, not acknowledging our existence. He whistled away. The goblin cleared his throat with a failed attempt to sound human. Bobbing his leg, whistling away.

 I was scared, but I was there for a reason. The goblin cleared his throat much louder than the other times, startling me but neither the dog or the man seemed to mind. My heart began to race quickly and I screamed out "I am High Priestess Amica Whit, of The Order of Eastern Yule, may ye bear our presence!" and the room seemed to skip a moment then  the dogs eyes sleepily opened revealing that they were a fire of a red. The dog lifted his head curiously, and for a moment I found a presence in his red orbital eyes, but I had business here to handle, I looked back toward the whistling man and said "Sir-"

"Please madam, excuse his disposition" The dog said, admittedly I was somewhat shocked, I had never seen a talking dog before, werewolves on many occasion, cats to shift to humans yes (which was a highly spiritual and astro-anatomical practice), I myself can even shift into a cat given the right preparation, but not a dog. The dog continued and got to his feet "High Priestess Whit it is an honor to have you in my humble abode" dancing on the last words he gave a stretch of a bow then asked,

"Lovely to have you High Priestess Whit, what shall I do for you this afternoon?" 

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

So far this is a amazing story. I wanted to read more. I like the description of the city and the war. I like how you make the characters have strength and weaknesses. I hope to read more. A well written story with a good storyline and had great possibilities. Thank you for sharing the excellent story.
Coyote