St. Keaven and the Witch

Elderly Saint Keaven had devoted his entire life to the work of Yesh. Now, at the twilight of his years, he faced a stubborn witch who would not vacate lands owned by the Order of St. Kinnis.

Saint Keaven and the Witch

By Eddie Davis

© 2014

 

1.

 

St. Keaven pulled his cloak tightly around him, fighting desperately to keep the harsh wind from his tired old form as he led the slow moving donkey up the twisted path through the stark grey trees.   The sky prophesied a blizzard but the Saint had an introduction to make, and felt that the meeting had to be today.

With a silent prayer to Yesh, he stopped upon nearing the stone ruins of the old Cloistered monastery, glad to see that the structure appeared sound, though certainly he would spend considerable time repairing and cleaning it.

But that was for later, for he first had to confront the witch that had caused the monastery to be abandoned. 

The ancient cleric patted old Clover on her head.  Keaven glanced up the mountain that bordered the ruined monastery and took a deep, weary breath as he beheld the grim white oaks that twisted and curled like dancers frozen in bark.  

 

It wouldn’t be his first encounter with a witch  -- how many had he battled over his many years?  But this one they told him was different - she had came here with her mother - also a witch- years ago, and they had run out all the residents for many miles, including the monks.   But the monastery had been there first; he had purchased the land 200 years ago when he’d first become a Bishop.  

Now at 325, he was extremely old - even for a Half-Elf, and he knew he didn’t have much time left.   Or so he hoped.   It would probably be the last battle he would ever have with a spell-caster.   Yet he wanted to leave this world with everything intact.  

 

So with a soft click of his tongue, he urged faithful Clover up the path that wound around and around to where the witch was said to reside - at the summit.

 

He wasn’t surprised when soon afterwards, the trees began to twist and move, though there had been no wind.   It was typical of a witch protecting her land.   He tried his best to keep the poor donkey in the middle of the narrow path, but the branches from the trees whipped around them.   He leaned over Clover, shielding her with his body.   The branches whipped and pounded at him, bruising and cutting, and slashing.   He closed his eyes and prayed that Yesh might protect his mount.

 

A very large branch suddenly swung across and knocked him off the back of Clover, who bellowed in alarm as her master slammed hard onto the ground.   He felt his frail hips shatter from the fall, but the Saint only thought of healing and immediately the fracture was healed, along with all his injuries from the magical assault.

 

Standing up as quickly as his old body would allow, he was horrified to find Clover entwined in curling branches that were trying to crush the poor beast to death.   Now the Half-Elven saint was angry.   He looked heavenward, raised his hands and spoke, “Yesh the Lord is master of all winds and waves; all creation submits to him.   In the name of Yesh, cease!”

Immediately the trees returned to normal, dropping the poor donkey a few feet to the path.   Terrified, she began running up the path, braying all the while.  
“Clover!   Clover, come here, girl!”  He called frantically, but the stubborn donkey was already out of sight around the bend.  He knew she wouldn’t stop until she calmed down.

“Keep her safe, Merciful Yesh.” St. Keaven prayed.   “I don’t mind walking - exercise is good.”

 

 

2.

 

 

The next attack from the witch came minutes later, as the saint slowly climbed the winding path toward the witch’s abode.   This time the sky darkened, but not with clouds.   He knew what it was at once - a huge flock of crows coming toward him very quickly.   Soon claws and beaks would begin pecking and scratching at him.   Keaven threw his hood over his head, “Lord Yesh, may I be allowed to communicate with this flock of crows.”

 

The swarm of black birds sighted him and dove at once  in his direction.   Keaven took a steadying breath and spoke, “I am not your enemy, but a servant of the Most High God.   Who sends you to attack me?”

 

His voice came out as squawks of a crow.   The birds veered off at the last possible instant and landed in a furry of flapping wings all around him, covering the ground and the branches of the trees with their dark forms.

 

“Who sent you?”   Again he asked.

 

“Elizleana, mistress of this mountain.” One of the crows replied in its own language, but Keaven heard it plainly.

 

“Why does she come against me?”   He asked the crows.

 

“You come to disrupt her peace.” The same crow responded, again by a squawk.

 

“I come to restore the peace of Yesh upon this place.   Go and tell her this and leave me alone, in the name of Yesh the Merciful.”  

He held up his hand and made the sign of blessing in the air.   Immediately the birds took flight, appearing again as a dark cloud as they flew furiously back up to the summit of the mountain to report to their mistress.

 

Keaven rested a minute, silently thanking Yesh for his protection again.   He had just started forward when movement from both sides of the narrow path drew his attention.   At first he thought it was branches moving across the cluttered ground of the forest floor, but as soon as they broke through the underbrush on all sides around him, he could see that they were a multitude of snakes.  

 

Snakes; in the middle of winter, with the temperature cold and with a threat of snow.   Only the witch could produce such serpents now.

 

Large and small, poisonous and tame, they slithered across the path way from all sides; all commanded to attack him.   He stood his ground, calm as three large snakes came at him from three different sides, each shaking the rattles on their tails.   Immediately they struck at him, stabbing their fangs deep into his old bony legs.

The Saint felt the venom course through him, but did not despair.  Yesh had protected him before from the bite of serpents far deadlier then these.   Serenely he wiggled off the three snakes and resumed walking up the path, crushing the slithering creatures that blocked his path, with the sandals of his feet.   He was bit perhaps 20 times as he walked through them, but though the warmth of the venom burned his blood, he was not otherwise harmed.

 

“Clover!” He called as he left the army of snakes behind, “Come here, girl!”

 

But the donkey did not respond.   Around and around the path winded, growing steeper as it turned.  

Higher and higher he climbed, calling out for his donkey when he had enough breath to call.   His muscles ached and his arthritic bones throbbed, but still he climbed, leaning heavily upon his staff as he shuffled along the rocky path to the summit.  

 

He expected the attacks to continue, but to his surprise none came.   Instead the air just grew silent and the temperature even colder.   It was as if everything around was watching and waiting for the confrontation.   By late afternoon the elderly saint neared the top of the mountain and still there was no sign of Clover.   The sky had released a dusting of snow during his ascent, but he did not mind this.   His breathing was wheezy in the crisp air and every step he took sent great pain through his worn ankles and knees, but he just pushed on, his cloak tightly around him.

 

As he struggled up the road, hanging desperately upon his staff, suddenly she stood before him on the path.   He jumped in surprise, nearly falling, but retained some of his dignity.

 

The two stared at each other for a long moment.   She was dressed all in black, in a ragged old dress and was hideously ugly to behold.   Her complexion was that of a half-rotted apple, a sort of yellowish tan color, dotted with black hairy moles, wrinkles and blemishes.   Her grey hair hung like straw on her head, and her face looked like a shriveled up piece of fruit with a long pointed nose and chin, yellowed or missing teeth and glaring blue eyes that watched him with the sharpness of a hawk.  

Only her posture seemed out of character with the rest of her.   Instead of seeming as bent over and gnarled as would be expected from the rest of her appearance, she stood tall and straight, like a Queen asserting her authority against a challenger.

 

Though she was by far the ugliest creature he had ever seen walking on two legs, Keaven smiled and nodded slightly, “You are Elizleana, mistress of this mountain?”

 

The witch’s eyes flashed, “You are an intruder here, old man!   How dare you trespass upon my mountain!”

 

Keaven smiled slightly, “I’m afraid you are mistaken; the land on this mountain and the surrounding area was legally purchased by the Order of St. Kinnis, 200 years ago.   I purchased this land for the cloister of my order.   You were not here on this mountain when I purchased this land, Lady Elizleana, so it cannot belong to you, I’m afraid.”

 

“How dare you dispute me!”  She hissed, “Your monks fled in terror from our presence, when my mother and I arrived here.”

“And where is your mother now?”

“Killed by a dragon who also disputed our claim.   But the dragon is no more, so I warn you, old man; do not challenge me!”

“Lady Elizleanna, I do not plan to challenge you, I intend to repair the damage to the monastery and to reside there.”

“Then I will destroy you!”  She growled.

Keaven sighed serenely, “I don’t imagine that will be too difficult for you, if you defeated a dragon.   I am - as you said- an old man, Lady Elizleanna,  and do not have much time left in this world.   For longer than you have lived, I have trusted in Yesh and I still do.   Whether you destroy me or not, it matters not to me, for my soul eagerly awaits to journey to my Lord.   So do what you must, I will not lift my hand against you unless Yesh tells me to do so.”

“You have no idea who you are dealing with, old man!”

“My name is Keaven, Lady Elizleana.   I intend to retire to the monastery ruins for the night, but it is a long walk on aching joints.   Have you perhaps seen my donkey?”

She stared at him for an instant, taken back by the casualness of his question after such a dangerous encounter.

“Your what?”  She asked.

“My donkey - her name is Clover and she is old.   Your enchantments scared her and she ran off.   I wondered if you might have seen her?”

“A donkey!   You ridiculous old man!   Your beast has the common sense to flee from my presence and I would advise you to do the same thing!”

“So you haven’t seen her?”  He persisted.

“No!” She screamed in frustration at the stubborn old fool.

Keaven sighed, “Oh well; at least the return trip is downhill.   It has been stimulating speaking to you, Lady Elizleana.”   He bowed slightly and simply turned his back to her and slowly began descending the way he had come.

 

The witch watched him go, amazed at his bravado to turn his back to her.   She could have easily killed him right then, but it just didn’t seem sporting to kill a frail old man leaning on his staff, trudging pitifully through the mud with his back turned to her.   Besides, she was fascinated at what sort of fool would be so brave as to come alone to face her.

 

With a snort of disgust, she raised her hands and disappeared with a puff of smoke, leaving the saint to continue his descent.

 

 

 

 

 

3.

 

It seemed to him that the wind blew angrily against him, the branches of trees whipped at him and even the mud tried to pull off his boots as he hobbled back down.    Elizleana would not allow him to rest - this he knew with certainty.  

 

It was past dark by the time he had returned to the ruins of the monastery.   The wind howled coldly through his clothing as he rather stiffly climbed over the debris in search of a section of the old building that would protect him from the wind.

 

In the middle of the monastery, there remained the four walls of a small chapel.    He was delighted to see that a portion of the roof still covered a corner of the sanctuary, so it was there that he made his bed for the night.    It was too cold to worry about insects (unless Elizleana sent some forth), but several small mice scurried away as he shuffled past them.   

Keaven pulled the rolled up bedding from a leather sling on his back.    Unrolling it, he formed some sort of a nest, and then chanted a light spell to give him enough time to eat a late meager dinner of bread, cheese and a bit of smoked ham.

 

Curling up in the old cloaks and furs, he prayed, asking Yesh to protect Clover and to soften the heart of the old mean witch.

 

***

 

As the ancient saint prayed for his foe, Elizleana was peering through a crystal ball at his reclining form.    Greenish light highlighted for her that which was hidden in the darkness.   The witch watched him closely, listening to his mumbled words.

“Old fool,” She hissed, “He thinks all is forgotten and that he has won.    But I shall send out the creatures of darkness to show him my power.”    She held out her hand and immediately a large owl landed on her forearm.

“Go to him and make him fear my power.”  She said to the Owl, but then added, “Also, be watchful for the old man’s donkey.   If you see it, report back to me.”

The Owl hooted a response then took flight in the cold night air.

 “Now we shall see who is master of the dark.” Elizleana snorted as she resumed glaring into her crystal ball.

 

***

 

Minutes later the heavy flap of wings told of the arrival of the Owl to his destination.    He flew around the dilapidated monastery a few times, and then slowly drew inward toward the sleeping saint.    But as he prepared to rend Keaven with his great talons, a terrible dread of the man came upon the bird.   

“No…”   Elizleana said, watching the Owl land on a section of stone wall across from the Cleric.    

“Obey me!”   The Witch hissed into the crystal ball, yet the bird did nothing but stare in the dark at the servant of Yesh.

It became apparent after a long period had passed, that the Owl would not comply with her wishes.    

“Come back then!”   She commanded him through her scrying device and then she waved her hand over the crystal, clearing the form.   

“Hungry wolf.” She spoke to the crystal and immediately the image appeared of a famished timber wolf from somewhere near.

Quickly she brought the animal under her power and gave him orders to find the saint in the monastery.  

The wolf moved out at once, desperate for a meal.   This time Elizleana coaxed the animal as it ran toward the ruined building.   She reminded him of how hungry he was and what waited for him.

 

She changed the viewing perspective of the crystal so that she could see through the wolf’s eyes.    He leapt over a crumbled wall and rushed through the monastery in silence until he finally found the sleeping cleric.    The Great Owl took off as soon as the wolf entered the room, but still the saint slept.

 

With surprising speediness the wolf rushed into the room and immediately charged toward Keaven with his teeth bared.

 

Yet just as the wolf was about to lunge forward and snatch up the Cleric’s head, Keaven suddenly sat up in bed, fully awake and glaring at the intruder.

The wolf jumped back as the old man met his gaze with cold, powerful eyes.

Keaven put his hands out, palm upward and spoke calmly to the large creature, “Are you hungry?”

The wolf just stared at him warily.

The saint slowly reached down and pulled out the rest of his smoked ham and tossed it in front of the wolf.   He sniffed it and licked his muzzle, but did not move.

“It’s alright, boy… go ahead, it has much more meat upon it than my old bones have.”   The saint began softly chanting.

The wolf looked at Keaven for a long moment, then slowly, almost timidly, stretched his neck forward and snatched up the ham.

 In a minute’s time, the meat was gone, but by then the cleric had finished his Befriend Animal spell.    His head bowed slightly, the wolf came forward and Keaven patted his head.

“Damnation!”   Elizleana screamed at the crystal ball as she watched her plan vexed again.

“Very well, old man, you leave me no choice now.”   She twirled on her heels and exited her rustic cabin, going around her house until she came to a pile of blood stained bones.   They had belonged to a huge wild, razorback hog that she had killed a year ago.    The witch stared at the pile of bones for a moment, pondering an idea, then ran back into her house and returned with a wooden box filled with tiger teeth and bear claws.  

“A use for you has finally been found, old Raw Head.    Rise up, and take your bloody bones; wear these bear claws upon your feet to help you to tear, and take the teeth of this tiger to supplement your tusks!”   She chanted a few arcane words, and immediately the bones formed into the complete skeleton of a monstrous wild hog, with the claws of the bear magically fused to the feet, and the tiger’s teeth filling the mouth of the creature.

“His spell will be useless to befriend you!”  She laughed, and then she leaned in close to where the hog’s ear would have been if it still had flesh on it.   She whispered her orders and a moment later the skeletal hog raced off as if it were alive.

“This will shake his courage.”   She said to herself, but to her dismay, she wondered if this too was folly.    He certainly had the power to protect himself or to heal any injuries her minions could cause.    Still, he had forced her hand, so she raced back inside to her crystal ball and waited to see.

 

***

 

The wolf was curled up at the feet of the Saint, and Keaven was thankful for the warmth and the company.    Most of his life had been spent in temporary assignments, before Yesh had called him elsewhere.    While he had made many acquaintances and counted some of them as friends, he had never felt close to anyone.    Only a handful of animals, over the years, had given him companionship and even they were only partial comfort to his lingering loneliness.

Patting the canine’s head, he was about to drift off to sleep, when the wolf leapt to his feet, growling and staring through the ruined building toward something that he sensed that Keaven could not detect.

“What is it, boy?”   He asked, knowing without a doubt that the old witch had sent yet another creature to vex him.

The wolf was rigid in alertness and after a moment Keaven heard it; the odd rattle of something large running fast toward them.

 

There was a loud crash as it burst through the last few pieces of rotted wood that had once been the monastery’s main doors.   Before Keaven or the wolf could move, it had crossed through the ruins.    The saint could see an eerie green glow from it, but was not prepared for what plowed into the room.    It was the blood-stained skeleton of some horrid beast - he could not tell at that awful moment what it was, but he saw the huge skull filled with tusks and shark-like teeth.    The eye sockets of the monster’s skull glowed with more of the fae green light as it rushed the wolf, which sprang at it with a snarl.

The skeletal creature stabbed its tusks into the wolf, then clamped its teeth into his hide, while raking at his underbelly with horrible long talons.    The wolf yelped and twisted free, seriously injured.    In spite of the spell of friendship upon it, the injured canine leaped through a glassless window and fled into the night.

Keaven did not have time to watch him go, for the skeletal  beast now furiously  turned upon him.   He tried to back away, keeping some rubble between him and the animated skeleton, but the undead brute rammed him with his head.    Two long tusks tore at Keaven’s forearms and it used its bony head as a scoop to toss him a short distance across the room, onto a pile of rubble.

The saint felt his breath knocked from his lungs and it charged over his body, raking at him with his talons.   He could not draw in breath to cast a spell, but simply made a gesture of blessing in front of the monster’s skull.

Power flowed from him at that moment and the skeletal beast jerked and shook as if rattled by a strong wind.    Then Keaven regained breath and in a shaking voice called out, “Unclean beast, undead thing, from the ground thou hast came, return to the soil in Yesh’s name!”

His words of turning dispelled the witch’s spell and the bones collapsed onto the stone floor of the room.

 

For a long moment, he laid there gasping and wheezing, but managed to cast a minor healing spell upon himself.    Sitting up, he somehow knew that Elizleana was watching.

“I will not be moved!”   He said aloud, “Shall we waste all night in this game, Lady Elizleana?   Must you use animals to do your bidding?   Is that the extent of your power?   To enslave helpless beasts and even dig up the bones of others?   There shall be no further attacks, tonight, lady of the mountain.    I do hereby sanctify this room as holy unto Yesh.   None shall disturb this sanctuary or its peace!   Reflect upon your wickedness, Elizleana!    I am an old weary man, alone and friendless except for my donkey, and I have not come against you in arms.    What do you fear?   Is it me, or the power of the Almighty God that causes you to seek to destroy me?”

 

He let that question hang on the air for a moment, and then turned to the pile of bloody bones, looking at them for a few moments.

“A hog, it would seem to me - a wild hog.   But there are a carnivore’s teeth and claws too, that you constructed to kill me.   You have failed, due to the mercy and power of Yesh.    Go to bed, Lady Elizleana, and we shall speak in the morning.   Allow me to spend the remainder of this cold, dark night comforted by the warmth of my God.    I wonder who or what comforts you?”

 

He hobbled over to his bedding and with aching, trembling limbs, he reclined, curling up tightly in a ball of bedding.

***

In the darkness of her cabin, lit only by the eldritch green glow of her crystal ball, Elizleana watched the infuriating old man curl up like a cur dog and drift off to sleep.   She was surprised to feel shame and a hint of regret for what she had done.    They were emotions she did not cherish.   “Lonely,” She said to herself, considering the word he had said, “You have no idea, old man.   Perhaps, though, there is another way to master you.”

The witch leaned back in her chair and developed a scheme as the night wore on.

 

4.

 

Although he was exhausted, in great pain from arthritis, his injuries, as well as being terribly cold, Keaven found it impossible to sleep or even recline for long.    His mind was tormented with growing frustration over the witch.   Elizleana was determined to run him off the mountain.

Not too many years before, he would have found the conflict a worthy challenge.   But the Saint felt horribly old and frail now and the task of contending with the hag was weakening him.

How many times had he faced adversity and persecution from non-believers?     How many times had he feared for his very life and for those which he was responsible?   He had carried many burdens, fought countless battles and spent many years of his life on his knees in prayer.    Yesh had sustained him through all of it, but sometimes the road just seemed too difficult and his path too rough, especially to bear alone.   

Perhaps he should have taken a group of young clerics under his wing and personally trained them.   They would have been a comfort to him, but he never wanted the added burden of worrying about their safety when he was ministering the will of Yesh.

The Lord was all he needed, and had been his constant companion and comforter for many decades.    Yet still he sometimes wished there was another person to share the hills and valleys of the road of faith.

How was he going to persuade the witch to see reason?    She seemed relentless in her attempts to kill him.    Throughout the long night he laid with his ears straining for any sound of another attack.

Finally, during the coldest part of the night, he decided it would be better to just arise and prepare for another confrontation with Elizleana.   

 

***

 

He did not know if the witch was watching his every move, but at that point he simply didn’t care.    It was a great task for him to limp around on aching, weary legs and collect up all the bones of Elizleana’s enchanted hog skeleton.     Yet when he had gathered them all into a pile, he wrapped them up in an old weathered tapestry that he had found in the rubble.  He then fashioned it into a make-shift pack and shouldered the bundle.   The bones were large and heavy, but though he wondered how he would possibly reach the witch’s shack wearing the pack, he was determined to bring them with him.

Keaven wondered if the whole trip would be in vain.   Certainly she wasn’t going to change her mind overnight.    He had countered her several times, but he doubted that she was impressed with his power.    He had prayed for guidance, and he felt Yesh telling him to go up the mountain again and find her cabin.

So an hour and a half before sunrise, the elderly saint wrapped his cloak around him, leaned wearily on his staff, and by the fading starlight, slowly ascended.

 

To his relief, there was no attack against him.    Perhaps she was sleeping, he speculated as he endured agony from his knees and ankles on each step he took.

As he painfully made the trip, he prayed for guidance and strength in dealing with the old witch, as well as safety for old Clover.

 

Keaven stopped several times to rest as frost covered the ground, but three hours later he found himself rounding the last bend of the road leading to where he assumed Elizleana’s house would be located.     The winter sun shone brightly today and warmed the air, as well as slightly easing his aching legs.  

Cautiously he crept around the last turn of the road, scanning the yard of the cabin.     In the morning sunlight, it did not seem as sinister as he imagined it would appear.     It looked like a typical hermit’s shack - rustic and littered with junk and saved things, but surprisingly organized.  

In the front yard were several long wooden tables upon which were a variety of dried plants and a great number of glass and ceramic bottles and jars.   A small stable stood beside a chicken coop and next to that was the witch’s old white oak cabin.   Though it was rather primitive, it seemed to be well-maintained.

 

He was just beginning to wonder if she had some servants or some magical familiars that did the upkeep for her, when he saw a smaller table around the side of the cabin.    Someone was sitting at this table with their back to him, bent over mixing something up in a wooden bowl.

With stealth that even surprised him, Keaven silently crept up to the house, to conceal his presence from view, then, at the corner of the house, peered around the side to see who was sitting there.

 

He was very surprised at what he saw.    The first thing that caught his attention was hair.   Brilliant, fiery red hair that flowed proudly down a young woman’s back in long healthy tresses that she had wound into her lap to keep it off the ground.   

She had milky white skin without blemish or freckle which told him at once that she was Elven or Fae.    That was about all he could see of her from the rear, except that she wore a green dress of the type that was commonly worn by Sylvan Elven women in the summer months.

 

Immediately he suspected a trap by Elizleana.    She could have cast a shape-shifting spell upon herself to put him at ease and off his guard.   Assuming a beautiful form was a trick some of the hags would use to entice and deceive the unwary.    Keaven quickly began chanting a True Seeing spell while he came around the corner to confront her.

She spun around surprised and cried out in alarm upon seeing him.    She appeared to be Elven or Fae and gloriously fetching.    Gentle green eyes looked at him in alarm as she jumped up from the table.

By then his spell had been cast and he peered at her, knowing his spell would reveal her true form.

But it was the same beautiful young woman still looking at him in terror.    She was extraordinary to stare at, too.   She seemed innocent, graceful and delicate like an Elven maiden, yet shapely and carnally sensual in a very un-Elven manner.   

Before she could say anything, he asked her, “Who are you?”

“Veia.” She replied with great apprehension.   Her graceful fingers trembled as she shielded herself, as if expecting him to attack her.    The girl tried to move back from the table, but there was a jingle of a chain and Keaven looked down to see that she was shackled at the ankle to a heavy iron chain connected to the table.

“Don’t be afraid.” He said to her gently, but he was still wary and so he held up his hand in a gesture of blessing and spoke the words of the ‘Three True Question’ spell.

“I command thee to answer three true questions, in the name of Yesh, Almighty.”

A blue glow surrounded her and the girl cried out pitifully, pulling away from him, but she was unable to free herself from the chain.

She cowered and looked around like a trapped animal, her full bosom heaving in anxiety.    Never had he seen such a gorgeous woman.    She wasn’t just an Elf; that much was certain, but there was a radiance of faeness about her.

“First question.”   He spoke softly to her, “Are you the daughter, granddaughter, niece, cousin or sister of the Witch that I met yesterday, who is said to be named Elizleana?”

“No.” She answered, shrinking down in fear before him as the spell compelled her to answer truthfully.

“Second question; are you her familiar or is anything or anyone possessing you?”

 

“No.”  She immediately answered.

“Last question; who brought you here and when?”

“The old witch did - long, long ago.”

The glow left her and though Keaven still suspected a trick, he knew he had to free her quickly, for she had not lied to him.

 

“Are your parents alive?” He asked her, kneeling down beside her in an attempt to calm her.

“No, they are dead.”

“You’re not an Elf are you?”

“No.” She said, hesitantly as if she was loath to admit it.

“She’s chained you to the table.”

“She doesn’t want me to leave.    She has me make her potions for her.”

“Where is the witch now?”

“She’ll be coming soon, I think.    She wants to kill you or scare you off of her mountain.   You are the Yeshian cleric, aren’t you?”

“Keaven is my name.   Your name was what?”

“The witch calls me ‘Veia’.”

“How long have you lived here as a slave?”

“Many years… I don’t know for sure.”

“Is this chain the only thing binding you here?”

Veia looked at her chained ankle, “Yes… I think so… but she will send her armor golem after me if I try to escape.”

“Armor golem?”

“She has a suit of old plate armor that is animated.   It is where she keeps the amulet of her soul.    It is a terrible golem - invincible, and she controls it from afar like a puppet.”

“She didn’t send it after me.”

“Not yet.   But she will if you try to rescue me.    You can’t stop it except by destroying her amulet, and it is embedded on the inside of the armor’s breast plate.”

“Armor can be destroyed.”

“This armor is enchanted, sir.   It cannot be pierced… at least that is what she told me.    It will retrieve me if I try to leave her mountain.”

“What about this chain around your ankle?   Is there a key?”

“She has the only key.”

Keaven smiled, “Well, I can free you from this.”

He chanted the Emancipate spell and the shackle dropped from her ankle.   The girl squealed in delight, but then the realization of the event dawned on her and her hands flew up to her mouth.

“Oh no!   Now the golem will come after both of us!” She exclaimed, her alluring green eyes wide with terror.

“Then you need to stay with me, child.”   He slipped the bundle from his back, “I am returning her skeletal monster.   It was no match for the power of Yesh.    My God can defend you too, Veia, if you will trust me to help you.”

“I’m… scared, sir.   I’m… I’m sorry, but I’m really scared!   I’ve lived my entire life on this mountain.    I’ve not known many people other than the witch.   People scare me almost as bad as the golem… and the witch.”

  Keaven smiled, “Veia, do I look threatening to you?   I’m an old man who would have been dead long ago had not Yesh sustained me for his purposes.    Right now his purpose is to free you from this witch.”

Her eyes sparkled as she heard this and he lost himself momentarily in her angelic radiance.   He had never struggled greatly - even in his youth- with strong physical attraction to any of the multitude of lovely ladies he had encountered over the years.   Yet to his amazement and shame, he felt himself almost hypnotized by the young woman.

Dirty old man, he chastised himself for letting a wondrously pretty girl affect him so.    

I’m bewitched, he thought and this brought his guard up.   Though the spells had not shown any deceit from the girl, he still wondered.    He had one last spell he could use.    

 

“Veia, I’m going to cast a ‘Detect Magic’ spell to see if there is anything that the witch is using right now to spy on us.”   It was only a half-truth, for he was mostly interested in seeing if there was any magic radiating from her.   He watched her reaction to his words, but she only shyly nodded, looking around as if nervously watching for her mistress to return.

It only took him a few moments to cast the spell and immediately several things began to glow a faint green, which indicated the presence of magic.    But Veia had no glow around her.    The potions and bottles on the table where she had worked all glowed, however.    The door of the stable glowed as well - probably a wizard lock spell to keep intruders out.

“These potions are magical.”   She explained to him when he didn’t speak for a few moments.

“What are they, Veia?”

“The witch feared being cast out by you… or your god, I guess.    She had me mix up these restoration potions.”

“Restoration potions?   How do they work?”

“They restore life and vitality after it is lost… such as in a battle between magic users.”

“Did she have you mix them before today?”

“The old witch taught me once, but she never seemed to need one before today.    You have really scared her.”

Keaven snorted, “Well, she sure did not seem scared last night.”

“She is, though; I could tell it this morning.   She is probably preparing the Armor Golem to attack you!”

“Perhaps we can avoid it.”

“No, it moves faster than a man and fights as a great warrior.”

“Well, then I will probably not be much of a challenge for it, at my age.”

“How old are you, sir?”

“325 years old.”

“No human lives that long, sir!”   She gasped in amazement.

Keaven pulled his hood back, revealing his slightly pointed ears, “I’m Half-Elven, actually, and that is quite old for a Half-Elf.”

“You are a Half-Elf?”  She asked, confused, “But why are you aging at all?    Half-Elves can choose to not age, just like the Elves.”

He smiled sadly, “Yes, I know, child.   I actually was alive when Yesh changed our biology.    I remember the Burning Tree dream quite well.”

“So you chose to grow old like a human?”   She asked, incredulously.  

“No, actually, I didn’t choose either way.    I simply told my God that I would trust Him to always choose what is best for me and I would defer to his will.    Yesh has allowed me to age and I look forward to the hereafter.”

Veia looked at him as if he had just told her something unbelievably ridiculous, “Why would you want to grow old, sir?”

He began to reply, but at that moment the wind seemed to pick up suddenly and they both looked around frantically, expecting an attack from Elizleana.

“Just the wind… I hope.”   He told the girl, “We need to get away from here.”

“I will take some of these potions with us.    They would help you when the Golem attacks us.”

“Veia, did the witch bring an old donkey to her stables yesterday?”

The girl’s eyes twinkled, “Yes!   I forgot!   Late last night one of her… servants… found her and brought her to the witch.    She is your donkey, isn’t she?”

“Yes.   Where is she now?”

“In the stable - I fed her myself this morning.   She is alright, don’t worry.   She’s a sweet creature.”

“Her name is Clover.   Praise Yesh that the witch didn’t harm her.”

“Oh, she likes animals, sir!”

“She didn’t seem to like a wolf that I befriended last night.   Her skeletal hog attacked it!”

Veia gave a lovely laugh, “You mean Hunter?    He’s almost one of her pets.     She retrieved him after the battle and healed him.”

“She healed the wolf?    Is he here too?”

“No, he runs free.    All her creatures do.    They are her servants.”

“She has no other people serving her?   Only you?”

“Yes, only me.    The rest are animals, or, in the case of Raw Head, WERE animals.    Then of course there is the golem.”

“She watched me last night, by scrying device, didn’t she?”

“Oh yes, in the house she has an old crystal ball that belonged to her mother.”

“Then we need to destroy it before we escape.   Perhaps it will be more difficult for her to send the golem after us if she can’t find us with her crystal ball.”

“Yes, that is logical.”   Veia answered, but seemed somewhat hesitant.  

“What is it, child?”

“I’m afraid if we destroy her crystal ball, she will grow REALLY angry!”

“I imagine she will be that way no matter what we do.”

Veia nodded, but still seemed skeptical.  

 

“You must trust me, young lady.” He told her, “You go and bring Clover to the front door of the witch’s cabin, and I will find and destroy her crystal ball.    Then we’ll leave.    Do you have any possessions that you can take with you?”

“No… only these potions.    Sir, maybe you should drink one of the restoration potions before you go in there.   If she were to return, you will need all your strength and health.”

What she asked made sense, but he remained cautious and hesitated to give her an answer.

“Don’t you trust me, sir?”  She asked him, and her lovely eyes looking so hopefully at him almost made him agree.

“No, not yet.” He said instead, and his frankness didn’t seem to hurt her.   

“I don’t blame you, that is quite smart.    If I sample the potion first, will you drink it?”

“That sounds reasonable.”

Veia pulled a cork from a glass bottle filled with a deep blue liquid, “This is the strongest potion she has.    By drinking this, we will deprive her of its use.   I will take only a sip, as it will much more greatly benefit you.”

She didn’t wait for a response, but took a mouthful of the liquid and swallowed.   

“See?   It won’t harm you.”

“Very well.”   He took the bottle from her and drained the contents.   He had always received immunity from poison from Yesh, but he doubted that it would extend to the effects of magic, if it was harmful.

Veia was smiling as he handed the bottle back to her.

“Now what happens?”   He asked.

“You won’t feel any different, sir… at least not right away.   You may feel more rested up, though.”

He did feel slightly revitalized, “Okay, Veia, go bring Clover up here and see if you can find her saddle.    But hurry and keep an ear open for the witch.”

“Don’t worry, I will!”   The girl bent over and rubbed her ankle briefly where the shackle had been, then ran off toward the barn with the grace of a deer.

 

Hopefully she won’t just ride off on Clover and leave me alone.  He thought to himself as he went around the side of the old cabin and onto the porch.    The potion had done something useful, for his arthritis was somewhat lessened.

Keaven pushed open the front door of the shack, expecting to see a dank, smelly, cluttered den of witchcraft.

Instead, he found a very neat and tidy cabin.    It took him a few minutes going from room to room until he found her private study.    On a stand in front of a comfortably padded chair was a large piece of flawlessly clear crystal.  

It was quite impressive and sparkled like a diamond, but he knew he had to destroy it so they would have a chance escaping unseen.

He lifted the heavy crystal off the stand and simply slammed it to the floor.   He expected an explosion or that perhaps it would bounce and prove indestructible.

Instead, it shattered loudly into a dozen pieces.    He was certain that when she found it, she would be quite enraged.

 

He didn’t ponder it too long, though, but grabbed a black cloak for Veia from a rack close to the door and then hurried back to the porch to wait for the lovely girl and Clover.

.

5.

 

Keaven did not wait long for the girl, for Veia appeared soon, leading the old donkey.

“Hello, old girl.” The Saint patted Clover’s head, and then handed the black cloak to Veia with the explanation, “To keep you warm.”

Veia quickly wrapped the witch’s cloak around her, “We really need to get out of here as quickly as possible.”

“Indeed.   Why don’t you ride on Clover and I will lead.”

“But you should be riding her!   I can lead you.”

Keaven looked at her bare feet, “Dear girl, you don’t even have a pair of shoes on your feet!  I don’t know how you keep from dying from exposure.”  

“I don’t usually feel the cold.”

“Good, but there are more stones than dirt on the path.”

“It wouldn’t be right to let an elder walk while I have the comfort of a horse… or a donkey."

“I insist, Veia.  We can load your potions into Clover’s saddlebag.

“But-“

“Shhh!    Respect your elders, child.     It is settled.    Do you have any other thing of value that you want to take with you?”

“No,” The girl said, with a forlorn expression.

 

“In time you shall have much.”  He encouraged her and soon had her sitting on Clover’s back.

“Will the restoration potions work on a donkey?”   The saint asked.

“Yes - she used one last night on Hunter the wolf.”

“Then give one to Clover, for she is old like me.”

“She seems quite sound, but perhaps it wouldn’t hurt.”    She uncorked a bottle and held it out for Clover to smell.   The donkey sniffed it and then let her pour the contents into her mouth.   

“Hopefully that will help the poor donkey to move faster.”  He said as he watched Clover down the mixture.   

“Sir, we should leave now.”   Veia said again as she anxiously looked around, as if expecting the witch to materialize out of thin air.

“Let us go then.”   He took the reins and led Clover toward the winding road down the mountain.

 

***

As they walked, he was surprised that he felt more energetic by the minute.    Even Clover seemed to have a feisty look in her eyes and moved with less stiffness, as if years had been removed from her body.

The sun was shining brightly as they slowly wound around and around.   Although, in the distance, dark storm clouds seemed to be forming, it was quite pleasant as they descended the mountain.

The old saint felt himself actually relaxing somewhat.   Perhaps the thought of the old witch out in the bright winter sun made it all seem like a faded nightmare, but there was no sign of her, nor was there any alarmed raised for the first hour that they travelled.

 

Keaven worked to ease the apprehensions of the girl by talking to her as they went down the mountain.   He kept the conversation light and humorous, telling her funny stories about events that had happened to him.   At first she barely smiled, but after a while she was laughing and smiling.   Clearly she was greatly enjoying his company.    She had a nearly musical laugh that was very pleasant to hear.     Her eyes twinkled as she listened eagerly to his stories and tales.  

 

“Veia,”  Keaven said to the girl after they had walked for a while, “You said that you were not an Elf.    What race are you, then?”

The girl looked uncomfortable at the question, hesitating for a few moments before finally replying, “My mother told me that we were Nymphs.”

“Nymphs?”   The saint said in surprise, for though he had heard legends of the species of beautiful fae creatures, he had neither met one, nor heard of anyone who had encountered one.

Veia shrugged, “That is what she told me.”

“What happened to your mother?”

The girl looked down at her hands, “She died protecting me from a group of outlaws.”

“I am very sorry to hear that.   How did you come under the witch’s power?”

“It was after my mother died… by then no-one set foot on this mountain out of fear of the witch, so I found a form of refuge here.”

“You came here on your own?”

“No… my mother was murdered here and…”   She hesitated as if the memory was very painful.

“So the witch took you in and protected you?”

“But I became trapped here as a result.    I feared people and she encouraged this fear so I would not try to leave.”

“But she chained you down, too.”

“That was one of her recent ideas.    I think the witch feared me escaping more than almost anything.”

“Perhaps she looked at you as a sort of adopted daughter.”

“I was a slave, no matter what she thought of me.”

“Did you ever try to escape?”

“I thought about leaving, but never really made an attempt.    I guess I was too scared after what I had seen of humans and how they had killed my mother.”

“So the witch was a hermit as well, and shared your hatred of people?”

“Yes.”

“How unfortunate.   There are many evil people in the world, Veia, but also many wonderfully kind people too… of all races.”

“There is at least one.”   The girl said with a radiant smile at him that left him speechless and blushing like an embarrassed child for several moments.

 

It was noon by then and the grey clouds were slowly moving in on the area.    They decided to give the donkey a rest just before a point on the path where the trail went across a side of the mountain heavily eroded by rain.    Many years of loose rocks falling had sheered off a slab of the mountain above the path, leaving a field of rocks and dirt that the trail passed through.    A sharp drop into a ravine filled with boulders and rubble fell off on the opposite side.

“This is a dangerous spot.”   Keaven told Veia as he helped her dismount from the donkey.

“Yes, it makes me nervous tarrying here too long.”   The girl responded, looking anxiously at the unstable area just ahead.

“We’ll make it across safely.    But I thought it would be best to give Old Clover a rest, as I’d estimate we are about halfway down now.”    Keaven stretched his back as he stared at the exposed rock above them.

“Are you okay?”   Veia asked, touching his arm, “You’ve walked a lot already.”

“I’m fine; just slightly tired.”   It was the truth, and it actually amazed him.    His arthritis was not bothering him at all, which was miraculous considering his extreme physical exertion today.    Yet he had not felt any pain since drinking Veia’s restoration potion.   In fact, he felt stronger and more energetic than he had in probably half a century.  

Veia was scrutinizing him with a slightly amused expression, “Are you feeling the effects of the potion?”

“I think so, yes.    I feel almost younger.”

Veia just smiled as if she knew something he had yet to figure out.   She reached into a pack on Clover’s saddlebag and pulled out another potion, “Drink this, sir.    It will help you maintain your energy.”

“Is it the same type as the first potion?”   He asked as he took it.

“Yes, the exact same.   I’ll try to get Clover to drink some as well, so it will restore her strength before we resume.”

Keaven decided to trust the young woman and just drank the entire potion, while she opened the second bottle and offered it to the donkey.   To the saint’s amazement,  for a second time, Clover opened her mouth and allowed Veia to pour the potion down her throat.    The donkey seemed almost happy as soon as she had swallowed it.

Keaven understood Clover’s reaction, for he immediately felt himself thinking clearer, his hearing seemed to be improved, his eyesight was keener and his muscles firmer.

He was about to comment about this to the girl when Clover suddenly looked up the path that they had just travelled, as if she heard something.   Then they heard it too.    It was a strange sound; the shifting and movement of metal, as if someone was running in plate armor.

“The Golem!”  Veia cried out in terror.

“Are you sure?” He asked her, grabbing her shoulders gently.

“Yes!    It runs faster than a man and moves with magical speed!   We’ve got to hide!”

 

But it was too late.    Around the corner came what appeared to be a very large man wearing battered, but sound, full black plate armor with an elaborately designed helm.   It carried a longsword in one gauntlet and a footman’s mace in the other gauntlet.    

Veia seemed nearly wild in fear and only with great effort did he keep her from bolting in panic.

“Listen to me!”   He shouted to her, “Get on Clover and ride down the mountain!   I’ll fend him off to buy you some time to escape.”

“Are you insane?!   You can’t stand against that golem!   We’re doomed!”

“Have courage, girl!    Yesh will deliver us.”    With strength that surprised him, he picked Veia up by her waist and lifted her onto the back of Clover.  

 “Yesh protect them!”  He prayed, as he slapped the donkey on the rump.    Clover bayed once and took off at a quick trot.

“Wait!”  Veia called, reaching for him as if to pull him after them, but the donkey carried her down the path, across the rubble field then onto the other side and around the curve of the mountain.   They disappeared out of sight, but Keaven didn’t watch them go, for he had to act quickly.

 

He had always been a man of peace.   Several times he had marched with an army on a righteous mission as a cleric, and while he had never been trained in arms, he felt that he would be considered adequate in battle.   At least he had been adequate, when he had been a younger man.

But he had no choice now.   Slowly backing down the path, to give him more time, he quickly chanted the old ‘Armor of Yesh’ spell.

 

The golem had slowed now to a marching pace, closing in steadily, but cautiously, upon him.

A bluish white light suddenly covered Keaven’s torso, shins, forearms and head, taking the form of ghostly armor of the type that the Southern Empire’s legionnaires had worn in the time of Yesh, complete with a large shield of blue light on his left arm.

 

The golem paused for a moment when the magic armor appeared on the saint’s body, which gave Keaven just enough time to chant a ‘Hammer of Righteousness’ spell.    An arcane war hammer - weighing next to nothing, but as sturdy as the best made Dwarven weapon- appeared in his right hand, shining as if it were made of polished silver.

He had no idea if the magic hammer would be effective against the golem, but he had no time to think of any other weapon, for all at once the golem charged at him.

He had backed into the middle of the eroded area and his feet slipped slightly on the loose dirt and small rocks.

The golem also slipped slightly as it advanced, but it did not slow or lessen the fierceness of its attack.

 

Keaven hardly had time to get his shield up before the golem’s mace crashed against it.   He swung his hammer at the ‘head’ of the golem, but with lightning speed it used it’s sword to parry his hammer aside.   Then its mace was brought around and he only was able to get the edge of his shield up in time.    The mace bounced off the edge of the shield and delivered a glancing blow to the side of his face.

Thankfully the ghostly, magic helm absorbed the impact of the blow, but it sent the saint reeling backwards.    Keaven was bewildered why the blow hadn’t killed him - even with the protection of the magic armor.    As old as he was, he should not have been able to handle such a blow.

 

He didn’t have long to ponder this, though, for the golem thrust his sword at him, attempting to run him through.   He brought his shield down low, deflecting the blow, but the action exposed his head and neck and the golem swiped at him with its mace.

Keaven found himself ducking with youthful speed, and to his relief, the mace missed.   He swung his hammer at the golem, aiming for its legs.   The impact of the magic hammer made the golem stagger back and slip slightly in the loose gravel.

The saint knew he had to press this slight advantage.    Peering over the top of his shield, he lunged at the golem, swinging his hammer with all his might at his head. 

“Elizleana!”  He called as he attacked, for he remembered Veia’s words about the witch’s connection with the golem, “Call off your minion and let the girl leave in peace!”

His hammer connected with the golem’s helmet with a resounding clang.   Its neck whipped back and had an actual person worn the armor, it may have broken its neck.    Instead, the golem swung his mace at Keaven’s chest, which his shield deflected.

As if enraged, the golem began delivering a whirlwind of sword and mace swipes at him.    It used both weapons masterfully at the same time and the saint had no option but to cover himself with his shield and try to deflect the attacks coming from the opposite side with his hammer.   

But the magic hammer wasn’t designed for parrying and many of the sword swipes contacted his ghostly gauntlets.   They protected his forearm and hands, but he knew that the spell would only absorb so much damage before it would dispel, leaving him without any protection.

“This is pointless, Elizleana!” He yelled, panting for breath as the golem slowly pushed him backwards, toward the edge of the cliff and the long drop into the ravine beyond, “Let Veia go!   She deserves happiness and freedom.”

 

The sky now was filled with grey clouds, and the air began to cool, but it was little relief to the exhausted saint as he prayed to Yesh for any form of deliverance from the creature.

At least let Veia and Clover escape, He prayed silently, wondering if his combat with the golem would give them enough time to get off the mountain.

 

Then it happened.    The golem had made an attack which brought Keaven’s hammer up to counter its sword, while his shield deflected a side swipe of the golem’s mace.   His torso was exposed, but Keaven knew his opponent’s weapons were also tied up.

Yet that was part of the golem’s plan (if golems actually made any plans).    It brought its leg in close to itself and then kicked it out against his chest, like someone attempting to kick a locked door open.

Keaven wasn’t prepared for the move and though he wasn’t harmed by the kick due to the Armor of Yesh spell’s magic breastplate, the force of the blow threw him backwards.

Suddenly he was falling, end over end, down a steep slope filled with rocks, small boulders, stunted shrubbery and debris from landslides.     He could do nothing but bounce and roll, battered from a hundred impacts.  

The magic armor absorbed much of the damage of his fall, but it was dispelled long before he finished rolling down the slope.

Finally he stopped and Keaven found himself sprawled out on his back, staring up the side of the mountain from which he had just tumbled.   He knew he was in serious trouble.    He wasn’t hurting much for now, due, no doubt, to shock.    But he could see his leg was twisted and broken and much of his body was numb.   Blood covered him and was slowly filling his mouth.

Keaven knew he was dying.    It didn’t scare him, for he had spent many years thinking about it.    He just had not thought it would end like this.

Staring up the side of the mountain, he saw the stark whiteness of bare rock where much of it had slid off over many years, filling the ravine where he now lay.

Suddenly a black form peered over the side, its form clearly outlined against the white rock looming above it on the side of the mountain.

It was the Armor Golem.

Well, come down here and get me, he thought, for he knew that even the golem would not be able to climb out of the deep ravine.

But it wouldn’t do that, he suspected.   Instead, it would now focus on finding Veia and Clover.   If only he could do one last noble deed before death took him to Yesh’s side.   If he could just destroy the golem, and perhaps defeat Elizleana as well.

But how?   He was mortally injured and was near death.   The golem was perhaps a hundred feet above him, standing in the landslide prone area.   Keaven glanced up at the white rock looming up, two or three hundred feet above him - and the Armor Golem.

It was loose and prone to landslides and avalanches.  

 

Then Yesh gave him an idea.   It was a dramatic, but powerful way to defeat the golem, and in the process bury both of them in a tomb of rock.

It was a spell called ‘Prevail’.    It could not be cast where any large living animal would be in the field of effect, but it was a powerful spell that was seldom used except by those storming a castle.

It was designed to crumble castle walls, shatter wood or even melt iron shod doors or any portcullis protecting a castle.

The area of effect was dependant on the years of wisdom of the spellcaster.   He certainly had the experience to allow the spell to cause extensive damage.   Keaven had used the spell only twice in his life.   Once to free a group of priests of Yesh who had been locked inside a burning wooden keep by enemies.    The second time he had used the spell was perhaps 75 years ago, marching with the Dwarven King’s army against a rebellious general who had taken a key castle of the Dwarves.    Both times the spell had powerfully torn down the walls.

Now he knew he had to try it one last time.    Thankfully it could be cast from afar, as long as the target was in sight.   The golem had moved away from the edge of the cliff, so Keaven knew he would have to cast it immediately.    Hopefully it would destroy the old witch as well, by destroying her soul amulet inside the golem.  

Looking at the unstable exposed rock high above him, and offering a quick confession of his sins to Yesh, Keaven spit the blood out of his mouth and began chanting the Prevail spell.

The sound of his voice brought the golem over to the side of the cliff again, just as the Cleric finished the spell.   Immediately the helmet of the golem turned brilliant orange as if it was being forged.   

But more wondrous was the rock high above the golem suddenly crumbling as if a thousand picks had been brought down against it.  

There was a deafening rumble and Keaven closed his eyes as thousands of tons of rock slid down the side of the mountain, taking everything - including the Armor Golem- down on top of him.

“Sovereign Yesh, let Veia and Clover be far away from this catastrophe.”   He spoke before destruction blanketed him.

6.

 

 

There was pain, and that greatly alarmed him, for there should be no pain in Yesh’s Heaven.   He couldn’t see, but he still breathed and that told him, to his horror, that he was still alive.

Buried alive and semi-conscious.

 

But as soon as that awful thought filled his mind, he heard a voice.   It was a woman’s voice and sounded somewhat familiar, but in his injured state, he couldn’t place it.

It came dimly, as if someone speaking outside of thick walls.

 

“Damnation!” She said, greatly agitated, “Stupid fool!   They’ve always the flair for the dramatic!    Half of the mountain is gone!   Who would have thought the idiot would sacrifice himself like that!”

Then the voice seemed to yell in to him, “You crazy old man!    I ought to leave you in there for a while to teach you a lesson!   But I can’t keep a bubble around you for much longer.     So you just go to sleep before you get into any more mischief!”

 

Terrible weariness (or perhaps it was approaching death) came over him and though he struggled to fight it, after a moment he drifted off to the sound of an irritated woman chanting a spell somewhere.

 

***

 

“Sir?    Keaven?    Oh, please wake up!   You can’t be dead!”.   It was a woman’s voice, coming after a long period of time, and he could not tell if it was the same voice as before or different as it all seemed almost a dream now.

He opened his eyes to find the beautiful face of Veia over him.   An anxious look was on her fair face and her rich red hair fell all around him as she bent over him.

She smiled gloriously when he looked at her.

“Thank heavens!”   She sighed, leaning over and hugging him.    She smelled of spring flowers and all that was clean and wholesome.   He breathed in the aroma deeply, finding no pain in his body.

 

“Veia… what happened?”   He asked as she knelt beside him.

“I don’t know… you sent us off down the mountain.   Clover would not stop for me, no matter what I tried!   Finally I jumped off of her, but just as I did, there came a terrible earthquake - or so I thought!   Half of the east side of the mountain is gone, sir!”

Keaven smiled weakly, “I know, I was underneath it.”

Her eyes widened to saucers, “Underneath it!?    But you are here now!”

“Where are we?”   He asked, trying to sit up and expecting at best, sore and bruised muscles.   But there still wasn’t any pain.

“We’re in the ruins of the old monastery!”  She told him, gently pushing him back down, “I was so terrified of the earthquake that I fled down the mountain.    It wasn’t easy, because the path on the east side is almost swept away.    It took me all day, and I thought you and Clover were long gone, but I was also scared that the golem might still be hunting for me.   It was nearly sunset when I reached the bottom.   As I was passing the monastery,  I saw Clover standing in the middle of the ruins.   When I went over to get her, I found you laying here.”

“How did I get here?”   He asked her and she shrugged.

“Sir,” She finally said, “It was you that brought the mountain side down, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, to kill the golem.”

“Then he’s destroyed?”   She asked, her eyes sparkling.

“Yes, as far as I know.   But of course I thought I was dead too, so who knows?”   He looked at her, watching her reactions.

“Then… the witch is dead too… with her amulet destroyed!”

 

Keaven shook his head, “No, the witch is certainly not dead, because I am talking to her right now.”

Veia looked stricken for a moment, then sighed and smiled slightly, “Oh, very well, I tire of games anyway!”

“So are you Elizleana or Veia?”  He asked.

“I went by Elizleana - my mother’s name- until your damn spell forced me to tell you my real name, which is Veia.  I thought you would try to use magic to control me by knowing my true name.   But apparently you just thought I was what I seemed to be - an innocent girl.    Until now, of course.”  She came over and sat down next to him, “I am surprised it took you so long to figure it out.”

“Your form threw me off.   You appeared old and ugly when we first met.”

“Shape-shifting.” She said softly, leaning over and stroking his hair, “Do you feel that, Keaven?   Hair on the top of your head where you were mostly bald yesterday.”

His hand went to his head and she guided him to the spot.    He had been balding for nearly 50 years, but now what felt like a month’s growth of hair covering the top of his head.

She laughed lightly at his surprise and gently took his hand and held it up to his eyes, “See?   No wrinkles either.”

“What have you done to me?”   He asked, trying to sit up, but she gently pushed him back down, and then reclined on top of his chest to prevent him from rising.

“I’ve taken your age away, obviously.    Those restoration potions do it.    I used to disguise myself and then travel far to trade them for goods twice a year in the villages.    Vain, desperate human women would always buy them.    They only last a month, though.”

“A month?    Do you use them?”

 

She looked somewhat offended, but more amused, “I certainly don’t need them!    I am indeed a nymph, Keaven, and I’m older than you by about 100 years.”

“But why appear as a witch?    Did you come here with your mother?”

Veia sighed, resting her chin on her arms, only inches away from his face.   Even her breath hinted of flowers as she explained, “My mother was captured by one of the elves of the great forest - I think they call themselves ‘Faesidhe Elves’ -- and was impregnated before she was able to escape.    She bore me in the woods alone.    You probably know that there are no male Nymphs.”

“All children born to a union between a human or an Elf and a Nymph are always female and always full Nymphs.    There are no sons, and Nymphs cannot reproduce with any other races other than humans or Elves.”

“After what happened to her, she hated humans and Elves, so we fled westward until we found the solitude of this mountain.   It is several days travel from any town and my mother decided to drive off the monks in your monastery to ensure that we would be left alone.   ‘Men are men’ she used to say to me.    So we took the forms of witches - drawing on the common disgusting appearance that most humans think of when they imagine witches.”

 

Keaven shifted slightly, feeling rather awkward at her nearness, “You said that your mother was killed by a dragon, but later - as Veia- you said she was killed by humans.”

Veia smiled sweetly, “Both are true, in a manner of speaking.    There was a petty warlord who decided that this area should be part of his kingdom.    His standard was of a black dragon and he wore armor with a dragon helm.    He tried for many months to invade our mountain but we scared him off.   Finally he sneaked up here alone and killed my mother by night.    Then he sought to rape me, but I killed him with a dagger before he could.”

“The Armor Golem was constructed from his armor.”

 

“You killed him yourself?!”   The saint asked, alarmed.

Veia just gave him a serene, flattered look, “Yes.   Without his armor, he was merely a man and didn’t realize just how dangerous I could be.”

Keaven looked at her for a moment, she was the loveliest creature he had ever seen in his life, yet there was a dangerous edge of power to her that put her out of harmony with her beauty.

“I realize how dangerous you are.”   He finally said softly, “You nearly killed me several times.”

Veia sighed, dismissing it, “They were merely attempts to make you fear me.   I knew you would be able to heal most of the injuries from the attacks of my servants.   I hoped to intimidate you and drive you away.    It always worked before on others.    Every one of your monks fled in terror before me, and aside from a few scratches and bruises, none of them were seriously injured.    I guess their faith in your god wasn’t as strong as your faith seems.”

“Self preservation is a strong instinct to overcome, even with faith.”   He told the girl who continued to recline against him with such a relaxed familiarity that he was beginning to enjoy it as well.   This was probably part of her plan to hex him.

“You seem to lack that same instinct.”   She arched her eyebrows, “In fact, you seemed more than willing to give up your life for no good reason.”

“Veia, I believed I was protecting you from that golem, which you told me was quite deadly.    In fact, it was quite deadly!”

“Well, you weren’t supposed to confront it!” She replied, exasperated, “You were supposed to run away!”

“I wouldn’t leave you in danger like that… though obviously you were not in danger at all!   But I did not know that then!”

“Ridiculous!   You did not know me at all.  You are either insane or suicidal.”

“I just was trying to protect you.”

“Why?   Why help a complete stranger?”

Keaven sighed, “Veia, I put great value in life.   You seemed to be a young woman who deserved a chance to be free and happy.   I acted according to my standards.     It is how descent people are supposed to act.”

“Well, it seems completely insane, especially since you failed to achieve your purpose.”

“My purpose was to destroy the golem, and I achieved that.”

“But you failed to provide me with ‘a chance to be free and happy’ as you said.”

“I don’t understand.”

“The spell you used to bring the side of the mountain down also brought my cabin with it, for it was on the same side of the mountain.”

“It brought that much of the mountain down?!”   He asked, incredulous.  

“Yes, and now I have no place to live and all of my possessions are under tons or rock.    So I would say you owe a great favor to me.”

“I wouldn’t owe you any favor if you hadn’t tried to deceive me.”

“Never-the-less, you destroyed my home, so what are you going to do to rectify it?”

She waited, looking at him with her sultry eyes.

He had no idea what he should do - what did he have to offer?

“I have no money or anything material to offer you in payment.”

“I don’t need ‘payment’ Keaven, I need a place to live!”

“I could take you to one of the towns and find you a place to live there.”

“Live among humans?!” She snorted with disgust, “You will have to come up with something better than that!”

Keaven swallowed hard, “Well, I intended to restore the monastery and try to get a group of monks to live here again.   I guess you could live here.    I think we could restore part of this room enough to get you through the winter.”

Veia scratched her chin, considering it for a long time.

“That is not enough.”  She finally said, though a hint of a smile was on her face as she spoke.

“Veia, that is all that I have!”

“No, there is something more that you have.”

He shook his head, “What?    I can’t think of anything else.”

 

She grinned wryly, “Why, you have yourself, Keaven!    While you were sleeping, I began to consider my plight.    I realized that I dearly missed the company of my mother, though she has been gone for 100 years.   She used to make me laugh, just as you did today.   I hadn’t laughed since she died and it felt very good.   At first I had a scheme to fool you in the form of Veia.   I was going to seduce you and conceive my own daughter by you.”

“What?!”   Keaven pushed himself into a sitting position, sending the Nymph sliding off to his feet.    

Veia laughed hardily at his reaction, “Relax, Keaven, it was a scheme that I abandoned.   It would be wrong to bring a child into this world for such reasons… and it would be unfair to you.”

“I should say so!” He protested.

“Still, I have endured many years of loneliness.    Never have I met a human or Elf like you.    Most are self-seeking and greedy.   I feel they are unworthy of life.    But you seem kind and even gentle when you are unprovoked.     The world is changing, Cleric of Yesh, and it will soon be encroaching upon me, no matter where I go.”

“So what is your solution, Veia?”

 

She stood up and glanced around the ruins, “I sometimes feel like this building.   Battered, worn, and forgotten.   Yet I realize that much of my problem stems from a hatred of people.” 

She knelt down beside him, “Keaven, what I ask of you for payment of the destruction of my home is for you to teach me how to accept people.    I want to see things differently and perhaps even lose my hatred and fear of people.    I want to begin with you.   I found that you were rather likeable.    It was pleasant to talk to someone again, to see someone concerned for me and most of all, to laugh again.    I haven’t known that since my mother died.”

“You want me to teach you how to socialize with people?”  He asked for clarification.

“Yes, but not by taking me to some town.   I want you to show me through you… to begin with.    I… I want you to… stay with me.”

He looked at her in alarm and she quickly put her hands up.

 

“No, I don’t mean it like that!   I promise!    I haven’t been around many people - except my mother- and I don’t know what to expect from them.    The men that I have seen have all sought one thing… except for you.”

“Well, I am a Cleric of Yesh and devoted my life to his service.   I am also quite too old to be motivated by such things.”

She touched his hand, “Not anymore.   You are young again, though you have not fully realized it.”

He laughed, “Young for a month, you said.”

“Well, that can change if you accept my agreement.    I want you to teach me how to trust people and accept them.    Teach me how to be among them.    But I want you to do this as a young man - as you are now- not in your old form.    You said that you are a Half-Elf and that Half-Elves are allowed by God to decide whether to age or not.”

“You said that you never made that decision, but left it to your God.    I want you to make a decision today, to not age.    Since the restoration potion has made you young for a while, if you make that decision now, you will remain this age and then you will have the strength to teach me.”

 

He gravely considered her words for a moment.    His body did feel young now, but he had longed to join Yesh in eternity for years.    Why would God want him to remain as a young man around a gorgeous woman?    Surely it was madness!

But what if this was a test from God?    A test of his faith and devotion to him?    Perhaps this would show the girl the power of Yesh and bring her into faith.    But what about the monastery?   His mind spun as he touched Veia’s arm.

“Veia, I must pray to God about this.”

“Should I leave you alone for this?”

“Yes, for a few hours, then Yesh will give me an answer.”

She nodded, “Very well, I will go and search through the rubble from the avalanche to see if any of my possessions are salvageable.   What will you do if Yesh tells you to reject my proposal?”

He shrugged, “I am sure he will give me a solution of some sort.”

“I hope so.”  She stood up and her red hair shined in the light of the candles that lit the room, “The storm clouds from this afternoon have departed, and night is falling, so it will be cold tonight.    I hope I can stay here where it is warm.   Tell Yesh that for me.”

“I will,” He promised and she smiled at him then slipped out of the room, leaving a hint of her flowery scent behind her.

 

7.

 

 

“So what do I do, Lord?”   He asked, after recounting everything in prayer to Yesh.   The room was growing chilly and he wondered if Veia would be safe milling around the unstable field of rocks and debris.

Yet he knew that God could not be rushed, so he knelt there quietly with his eyes closed, waiting for a sign.

Time seemed frozen as he knelt with his forehead against the cold stone of what had once been an altar.   He had taken vows when he had entered the priesthood.    A Cleric of Yesh had rules of conduct that they must abide by, and one of those dealt with relationships with those of the opposite sex.

A priest could marry, of course, but a male priest could not have a female living with him that was not a relative.    What Veia proposed was questionable.   She would tempt him sexually, if he remained young.    She might not deliberately do this (or perhaps she would), but sooner or later he would be tempted.   

“I should flee temptation.”   He said aloud to the cold night air and almost immediately the words of Yesh were brought to his mind.

‘All temptations can be overcome through faith, so do not fear the enticements of this world, instead do the will of God and he shall guide you through to the paths of his purpose.’

“Lord, do you want me to agree to Veia’s terms, then?    Am I supposed to stay here - choosing to live agelessly as an Elf- and show her how to have faith in you?”   He asked for clarification.

Immediately another passage from the Sayings of Yesh popped into his brain.

‘All who have free will are your responsibility.    I shall send each of you in divers places, to do strange and incredible things, for the sake of my lost sheep.    For a shepherd makes his sheep his primary concern and will not hesitate to do all to save them.’

 

Keaven took a deep nervous breath, “Very well, Lord, then I will obey.    Your will be done.”

‘Go and do my will, in my power and by my blessing’.    Yesh’s words came to him and a peace overtook him.    For a few moments he just knelt there and breathed, and then, silently, he told Yesh that he chose to live as an Elf, without aging.

There was no change or any sign of anything different, but he did feel that he was in God’s will.   Yesh would sustain him and give him the power to resist temptation and lust.

 

Getting to his feet, he decided to go and find Veia and share the news with her.

As he carefully walked through the ruins of the monastery, thrilled that his limbs no longer ached in the cold air, he saw an orange glow coming from what had been the dining area of the building.

Looking inside, he was surprised to see a fire in the stone fireplace.    Large scraps of wood and several large tarps or cloths had been tied to parts of the wall that still stood, to make an odd, makeshift tent-like structure.     The fireplace was at one end and it seemed complete enough with walls and a leather roof to be warmer than the sanctuary.

 

Keaven went through the hall and entered into the make-shift structure.   It was pleasantly warm and the red glow from the fireplace made the room very comfortable.   By the fireplace, Veia knelt, assembling a spit that apparently she had found in the rubble.

She looked up when he entered and stood, “I knew he would tell you, yes, so I went ahead and made us a shelter.”

“Yesh did give me permission.”  He admitted, “You have done a lot of quick work setting this up.”

“There was some of the stuff from my cabin at the top of the rubble.   I found this fireplace spit, and my skillets and pot, so we can cook over this.”

“If we had any food.”   He commented, looking around the room.

“We are in luck, for I had a smokehouse at the bottom of the mountain, near a stream, and it still stands.    You can feast on the meat from old Raw Head.”

“You mean the animated Hog skeleton?”

Her eyes sparkled in the firelight, “Yes, I smoked the meat from his carcass.  I also have some potatoes.   Are you hungry?”

“Very hungry.”  He admitted.

“Then sit down on one of those benches that aren’t broken and we will eat dinner.”

 

She served him pork and potatoes and sat across from him as they ate.    The food tasted incredibly good, though he wasn’t sure if it was because of his great hunger or her ability as a cook.    He told her about his prayer and she seemed extremely pleased at the response.   

“The fireplace will keep us warm tonight.”   She told him as they finished eating.

“You’ve done fine " but where do we sleep?”

“I couldn’t find any bedding.”  She sighed, “But I did find some of the hides that I was curing.    I’ve made a pallet for you near the fire.    Go ahead and get ready for bed while I clear the plates - we don’t want any creatures coming in here looking for food.”

 

Feeling extremely tired after a satisfying meal in the warmth from the fire, he yawned and went over to where she pointed and plopped down upon them.    They were piled several deep and were warm and soft and Keaven wrapped up in them as he looked around the room for her pallet. 

“Where is yours?”   He finally asked as she stacked up the plates.

“Where’s my what?”

“Your pallet  -- to sleep on.”

She didn’t answer and a moment later she just hurried over and slid in next to him on his pallet.

“We’ve only got one.”

“Now wait just a moment!” He protested and she put her fingertips to his lips.

“Keaven, it is the middle of winter, we are sleeping in the ruins of a building with only tarps and pieces of wood giving us any shelter.   I did the best I could finding these cloaks and furs.   Even with the fireplace, we are going to need each other to stay warm tonight.    I would say it is too cold to try anything else.”

He sighed, “Well, perhaps, but this is only temporary.    If you want me to teach you about people and civilization, you’ll have to understand how men and women act around each other.”

 

As he spoke she nestled closer and closer to him until she was pressed tightly against him.    He could smell her wonderful spring-like scent and her long red hair twirled around him.

“Go ahead with what you were saying.”  She whispered, inches away from him.   

“Never mind.” He replied, “Let’s just get some sleep.”

She wiggled even closer until she was lying against his shoulder, then with a contented sound she dropped off to sleep.

Keaven just laid there enjoying her warmth, her smell and her touch as the realization came to him that he was in for the test of his life.   Temptation shouldn’t be so wonderful.    So terribly wonderful.   Perhaps she had bewitched him after all.   Or maybe this was Yesh’s will.    At that moment, he didn’t know or really care, as he relished the experience.

Yesh give me strength, he prayed quietly.

 

 

                  

Author's Note

Old Raw Head is an adaptation from an old Ozark ghost story entitled "Raw Head and Bloody Bones" about a witch that animated a razorback hog skeleton to get revenge.

This story takes place west of the Faesidhe Forest in the world of Synomenia, 275 years after the events of 'A Sovereign Hope'.

Reviews

[Daisie Vergara (Dhaye)]

Actually, I have read this last week and I was typing my review when my internet connection became "naughty". Because I was using my phone, all my typed statements cannot be retrieved. Lol

I have limited time here and honestly, I finished reading this story for two nights (of my time here). I really enjoyed reading it because the concept is about the power of faith. It became interesting since there is twist in the story- the witch who appeared to be the antagonist at the start (she tested Keaven's faith) happens to be the leading lady of the protagonist at the end. I like the plot. Sometimes in real life, there are surprising things when it comes to finding your partner/love one. This is relatable even to teenagers because their story is something cute, as for me.

I admire how you write fantasy stories like this. It's like I am watching a movie. I wish that one day your stories could be made into Disney or Dreamworks movies. Your stories are really great. I just have limited time so when I read a chapter or two from your book, I am always left behind. :)

[Eddie Davis]

Thank you, Dhaye, you are very kind, I value your opinion greatly.

[Daisie Vergara (Dhaye)]

Wish you post more stories like this.
You're welcome.

[Eddie Davis]

Well, 'Talminor' which I'm posting a chapter at a time to Writer's Cafe is actually a 'short story' which is under 150 pages and is only a bit longer than St. Keaven and the Witch. It has 12 chapters and 4 of them have been posted thus far.