Page 17 of The Arcane God

Beside him, Chans’ snickering laugh rang out across the silent space. “We won’t fall for your tricks, witch. Tell us here—now—or we’ll slit her throat in front of you.”

“Please!” a woman’s voice echoed around the grove. By the look of utter despair on her face, Steig guessed she was the girl’s mother. “We don’t know where she is! Let my daughter go, please!”

Ena’s sister ignored the crying mother and spoke again. “Do you refuse to entreat with me?” she asked them.

“Never,” Gunnar spat. “We do this on our terms, not yours.”

“So be it,” she said, looking around as if conflicted with what she was about to say.

Then she spoke.

{Aeris}

A gust of wind unlike any he’d felt before rushed towards the three of them, causing them to stumble backwards. But daemons were no mere mortals—their strength caused them to take a few steps back, but they did not fall down, nor did Gunnar lose his grip on the girl.

Chans removed his short swords from where they were strapped to his back, preparing to fight.

“Take the children!” the matriarch called to the witches. Mothers and fathers with young children bundled them up, fleeing into the woods around the grove as the panic spread.

Chans moved forward as if to start attacking those who remained, but Gunnar stopped him.

“Wait!” he said, his voice vibrating with unspent energy. “I can feel them. Their panic! I can…” Gunnar focused on one of the witches who remained—a man closest to the dark woods on the far side, who seemed as if he were stuck between fleeing and holding his ground—concentrating on him as if he were trying to create a mind channel to use his metus. But that wasn’t…

The male witch clutched his head and screamed, his panic suddenly heightened to the extreme. “Run! Run! They’re going to kill us all, for the love of Gaia, run!” the man shrieked as he ran off into the woods.

Gunnar’s Power was working on him. But how was that possible?

The binding spell.

When it broke, it must have changed the balance, made it so witches and daemons’ magic worked against one another. That was the only explanation.

Fucking Iblis.

This was about to be a blood bath.

“Our Powers work on them,” Gunnar declared triumphantly, laughing sinisterly. “This changes everything.”

Without preamble, Gunnar took the dagger he held to the girl’s throat and drew it across. Blood poured from her wound, and the young woman collapsed to the ground, her life instantly forfeit.

A screaming wail drew Steig’s attention. The girl’s mother’s grief echoed through the woods, her sadness chilling Steig to the bone.

“Chans—have at them.” Gunnar grinned.

Chans acted now, his Power of maeror latching on to the closest male witch to them, his face in shock as he stared at the girl’s dead body on the ground. His sadness quickly turned into despair as he collapsed in grief like the mother had, clutching his heart as if it pained him to feel it beating in his own chest.

Steig froze, not knowing whether to run or fight. He didn’t want to be a part of this, didn’t want to hurt them, but before he could decide, the witches fought back.

{Terra} an older female witch called—her voice strong and powerful as it permeated the grove.

A huge chasm opened in the forest floor, the soil ripping apart as if it was nothing but a piece of paper. Its jagged path cut across the grove, parting the earth right between Steig, Chans, and Gunnar. Steig felt the earth falling away under him and he nearly lost his balance. He had just enough presence of mind to jump before the last solid foothold fell away. Launching himself with all his strength, he just barely caught the edge of the chasm, his body dangling down into the nothingness below him. Using his fingertips, he pulled himself up onto solid ground. He turned around to see Gunnar and Chans had barely escaped the chasm, too, and were scrambling up onto the other side of it—but they had no time to rest.

{Ignis} another witch called, and across the chasm, he saw the pine needles on the ground in front of Chans burst into flame, quickly catching the man’s clothing on fire. He cried out in pain, beating wildly at the flames on his pants as they engulfed him.

Gunnar rushed forward towards the witches, focusing his Power on the closest witch in front of him—the one who’d spoken. Gunnar grabbed the man’s shirt as he screamed—panicking—and shielded himself with his arms as urine suddenly soaked the front of his pants.

“Where is Ena!? Where are her daemon companions!?” Gunnar yelled in the man’s face.

“I-I d-don’t—” the man tried to say, but Gunnar didn’t let him finish before he dragged his dagger across the man’s throat and dropped him on the ground like discarded trash.