Beginning ... Chapter: One ... Two ... Three ... Four ... Five
The ropes slid from Emile's arms. She raised them up. "Tie me with magic ropes?" she giggled, "Yes, I am the druid Shaman you seek. You have found me, and I'm in your lair. Aren't you pleased?"
The Baron stood speechless and motionless. The dark-haired, dark-eyed burger's daughter was transforming into a silver-haired, almond-eyed nymph. The eyes turned gray, cold gray, cold as winter's night, and filled with a life-long hatred of all things human and civilized. The beauty was still there, but it was now the cold, icy beauty of a February snowflake.
"And how fortuitous of you to have the implements of my power lying so easily about. My spies told me you kept them here, but I couldn't believe when I heard it. How could you be so sloppy, so careless with your enemy's totems? Was opportunity knocking? I had to come see for myself, and I'm very happy I did." With a motion of her right hand a wreath of mistletoe from a Christmas celebration came winging, with a motion of her left, an oak cudgel hanging as a wall trophy came flying to it. As she held the totems high, a glow of power emanated from her. "Now that you've found me, breath your last, human. My people will be free of your 'civilization'." As she spit the last words out, she began crumpling the mistletoe in her hand, and rapping the floor with the cudgel in her left. With the first rap, the Baron reached for his chest in pain.
But instead of calmly accepting his fate, the Baron began to counter-conjure. The druid giggled at the effort and squeezed the mistletoe harder.
"My people are not the cloddish farmers, your valley people. They are the people of the woods, the old people, the little people. These are the people I will free. Now... die..."
But the Baron did not. His motions were jerky, as if he were a puppet on a string, but he kept conjuring. The joy on the Shaman's face melted into concern, then she screamed. The Baron's motion smoothed, his concentration narrowed. With sharp, unnaturally fast motions, his hands worked as if he were unbuttoning something. She screamed again. The druid's chest first throbbed, then bulged, then split open and her heart flew to the Baron's hand. In his hand it's beating slowed, then stopped, and an inch-thick layer of fuming frost grew on it. The Baron raised it high, then threw it down. It shattered into red dust.
The druid looked on, her dulling eyes filled with a final question.
"As I said earlier, shaman. Things in this place are rarely what they seem. The mistletoe is silk, and the cudgel synthetic. You have power here no longer. Begone!" The Baron turned and walked away without a second glance. The druid and the fuming dust of her shattered heart vanished without a trace.
But the Baron's disdain was show. As she vanished he shuddered, stumbled, and reached for a chair for support. His heart raced and his hands shook. She was gone, but the feel of her cold grip on his heart would be a nightmare for some time to come.
Through the door across the room, the real Emile entered quietly, tea-tray in hand. The Baron slowed his breathing enough that she would not notice, and he held the chair to still his hands. She quietly placed the tea tray on the table, then left. He studied her intently, analyzing her every motion. "Someday, I'll be able to describe that motion." He muttered. "And someday, she will accompany me.... but not today." The Baron's breathing slowed back to normal, but his hands still quivered slightly as he walked back to his arm chair to resume his reading.
-- The End --
Beginning ... Chapter: One ... Two ... Three ... Four ... Five