"The Witch and the Warrior"
"When last we left of a tale of old,
Of a father adopted and heart so bold.
Of a child who was ill and soon to expire,
A situation most critical and to any parent, so dire."
"The snow fell hard and the wind did howl,
To hinder his steps Nature seemed foul.
With intent to delay and cause one harm,
The father fought on, his heart with alarm."
"To seek a cure or treat the sick,
But the child was dying and with need he be quick.
Through trees and mountain slope he did move,
A heart that again loved and now he had to prove."
"Danger he faced for time and again,
Threats and fell demons that were made in sin.
Like those that came before him, he sought to the hunt,
Witches and spirits, he was unafraid to confront."
"But this time was different, this time he was in need.
To take flight of foot and make the utmost of speed.
For the babe that he now saw as his own,
Was weakening of lung sickness and dying in his home."
"So onward he went through both sleet, wind and snow,
Desperate to reach the village that lay down in the valley below.
But fate then did step in, as underfoot and unseen,
Laid a stone that would move and cause the unforeseen."
"For destiny can be tricky and cruel maid at hand,
That shaped the souls and scoured this pitiful land.
"Yet this would be beneficial if he be strong of heart,
Yet only if through fear he could set himself apart."
"For he lay at the base of thee Black Woods of legend,
And it was in that moment alone his bravery went unquestioned.
For he saw the light and knew one was there,
And he set one foot forward, refusing to despair."
"He knew not of whom that he would soon be a guest,
A name whispered in legend who gave trial to the bold.
Faint of heart and weakness she abhorred,
And no begging or pleading would her help then implore."
"But if brave of heart and strength of mind were virtues of the soul,
Then indeed would the guest in need's soul and strength be extolled.
She would judge and deem the worth of the desire asked,
And perhaps if lucky then would the seeker be given task."
"But no, this father who found himself unaware,
Knew who stood before him and only then did he beware.
For if judged unworthy and weak and virtue be for naught,
Then would she not help but you find yourself in her pot."
"She would feed on your flesh and muscle and sinew,
In her favorite meal of mortal man stew.
She would suck out the marrow and pick her teeth clean,
And for dessert on a platter for last was your spleen."
"Yet not this time, for despite this man's fear,
The witch saw through his soul and knew his path clear.
She saw why he came and knew of his virtue,
And to risk his own life for a child proved his soul true."
"So her aid she did give and sent him away,
For another time would come where with her meal she could play.
She watched as he went and knew in her dark soul,
There was much more too this man than a fatherly role."
"He played a large part in the grand scheme of things,
In the defeat of the darkness and the result that it brings.
Oh yes he was brave and a deep loving man,
The patriarch of the fabled Romani Dalca Clan."
"Oh I must remind myself to send the powers-that-be within the hierarchy of Sin City Wrestling a fruit basket with my thanks."
"I knew it had been some time since I dined on such innocence, but to lead two such fine meals to my doorstep, their fate served to me on a golden platter, oh I must repeatedly ask myself: What did I do to deserve such a treat?"
"Perhaps it is a hidden reward for winning the second most prestigious championship within thee ranks of the males of Sin City Wrestling. Perhaps it could the dominance that I have displayed since I first arrived upon their doorstep. Oh certainly I have dropped a match here or there, but in the end, the championship role call matters most as it signifies superiority over the mortal masses that swarm after the meaningless trinkets that go along with it. Whether it be on my own as the Roulette Champion, or my destined reemergence as a tag team champion with Goth at my side, I have accomplished more than so many that have targeted myself for utter extinction."
"Perhaps that is why I have been fed such tender morsels as Despayre and his newest tag team partner, Big B. Whatever. The reasons are not important. The end result, however, is. I have heard much of this young child within a man's body from Goth. I understand the two have had their past history with one another, and it all centers around the Abomination that Despayre carries alongside him. An entity that has plagued the shadows since light first cast them upon the earth. A protector. That is fine. I have faced worse in the eons since I first emerged from the primordial ooze that forced life to walk upon the earth. The One that the man-child carries with him for protection will serve as anything but, for I face not the protector, but the protected. I face a boy that has already admitted to being one with fear of the dark. Had he the bravery that has opposed me over the course of many a century, he would have no need for protection, now would he? Well! That protection will not be there for you where we will meet in battle, will it my boy? Your friend who has fought against many of my ilk and emerged victorious will not be within the confines of the ring to defend you when you need it most. Such is the fate for any who dare think to depose me from my throne."
"And you, the latest in a seemingly endless line of partners that Despayre has found at his side. Big B I believe you call yourself. The name I admit is most befitting in nature to your sheer size, but how do you feel once you find yourself against the face of Fear itself? Hm? Will your lack of wits that we have all been privy to cause you to forge ahead and attempt to do the impossible? Or will common sense show itself for the first time in your life and you do what every other partner of Despayre's has done, and abandon the little freak to his untimely fate? I would hazard to guess you would not be so bold, nor so wise. If you were, you would realize your position is one that is cursed. Gabriel. Rage. They both teamed with the man-child, and both have fallen to the whims of chance."
"Big B -- you're next."
She stood at the window of the hut, the one crafted of a clear sugar and used to alert the sweetened senses of the young to her stew pot. She watched in a silent contemplation as the storm grew heavier and the winds blew hard against the man that had just left. It was already late of hour, and his strength was ebbing despite his valiant pace.
He would not arrive in time. She knew it the moment he asked of her aid to save the life of a child. She had almost laughed at his daring request, for she had little use for the young save for the flavor of their tender flesh in her stew. Yet his soul burned bright, and it gave her pause before she thought to dismiss him. He was brave. Not just because he dared risk the path of the Black Woods to seek her out. But because it was not that long ago that he played a key role in the banishment of a great evil.
Curious, but still, it was no reason for her to involve herself with a mortal's destiny any further than she had already by mere chance. Of course, that seemed to be the extent of any reason why one would come to her threshold. Chance. Some might even call it fate. And not always the kind of fate spoken of in the fairytales with happy endings, but sometimes the darker versions whispered around campfires in settings such as Eastern Europe. Many times, the weak of mind and heart would find their way to her door, and never leave again should they be allowed entry.
Others, like the young Romani who had just left, would inspire within her the desire to assist them in little ways. The 'healing' she had bestowed on the garment for the child was a trifle thing, but it would be for naught. The weather worsened outside and there was no way he would make it back to his homestead before the child took its last breath.
It was not her problem.
Baba Yaga strode across her hut and around the table that was littered with herbs and poppets, the makings of her Craft. She took a seat in her rocking chair, one she had in her possession for untold years, and sought solace with her own council. She glanced toward the fireplace and immediately it sprung to life, giving warmth to her aged bones. She clasped her hands in her lap, absently reaching for the knitting that she was wont to do to spend her idle time, of which she had much.
Only she found that the knitting was gone and she then remembered how she had passed it along to the young Romani to aid the babe. Her gaze then went to the door of her homestead, and then again to the window where she had just stood. the panes of the window rattled under the wind, and snow started to pile up in the corners where she could see.
No, the Romani male would not make it back to his home in time to save the babe from the lung sickness that afflicted it.
"Damn it..." The witch cursed beneath her breath and she stood.
TBC...
