Previous | Table of Contents | Next
“Meow.”
Tafel looked down at the cat that had come beside her and smiled before handing it the scraps of her roasted fish. She wiped her hands clean with the help of some ice magic and climbed to her feet, pulling her head over her head. It didn’t really do much to hide her horns, but at least they weren’t visible from afar.
After leaving the church, Tafel left the town as well. It was too small. Even if Vur conquered a nation, she doubted she’d get wind of any information about it. That’s why, she was going to find a larger city or town—not because she wanted to go on an adventure. She hummed as she walked along the river, teleporting ahead when she finished mapping the region on an enchanted piece of paper that could expand and retract at will.
Soon after her fifth time teleporting, Tafel encountered another town. It seemed larger than the last one, and it was bustling too. From where she was standing, she could see between two particularly large buildings into the town square. There was a lot of people gathered; perhaps everyone who lived there was in attendance. Someone was saying something, but she was a bit too far away to hear, so she teleported closer. No one noticed her since their attentions were drawn towards the center of the square.
“—a witch! She shall be sentenced to death by burning at the stake!”
Witches? Burning at the stake? Tafel’s eyes widened as a crying woman was dragged to the center of the square and tied to a giant wooden stake. Around her feet, there were pieces of wood and kindling laid about in a massive pile. “I’m not a witch!” the woman screamed. “I’m not!”
“Don’t listen to her cries! Her tears are faked, designed to invoke sympathy amongst you! If you set her free, she’ll continue to practice her dark magic, cursing your village with blights and droughts. Make sure she’s firmly bound!”
Tafel stared at the man dressed in lavish clothes—in comparison to the rest of the people—and frowned. He was holding a lit torch, seemingly eager to throw it at the pile of wood beneath the woman’s feet. Tafel sighed. There was absolutely no way she was going to watch someone be burned to death right in front of her—even if they happened to deserve it. The man flung the torch at the pile of wood, and Tafel waved her hand. A block of ice appeared in front of the bound woman and smote the burning torch, extinguishing it and breaking it at the same time.
The crowd was stunned. After a while, someone shouted, “Witch! She’s really a witch! Quick! Stone her to death before she kills us!”
Tafel’s expression darkened, and her horns glowed silver. A moment later, she appeared in front of the bound woman. A sword made of ice formed in her hand, and she cut apart the bindings, helping the woman stand before she could fall to her knees. A breeze blew past, and Tafel’s hood flew off her head, revealing her horns.
“Devil! The witch practices demonology! Lord Bishop, do something!”
The lavishly dressed man took a step back. His face was pale, and words wouldn’t come out of his mouth as he pointed a trembling finger at Tafel. He had conducted over seventeen trials, but this was the first time a devil actually appeared! What was he supposed to do!? “I-i-i-in the name of the Lord, begone!”
Tafel pointed her finger at the man’s feet. A blood-red fireball blossomed into existence beneath him. He screamed and ran away, leaving the stunned crowd behind. A moment later, they screamed as well and scattered, shoving and trampling each other to get away. Tafel snorted, and the flames disappeared. She frowned and looked at the woman who was clutching her arm. “Are you okay?”
“You, what, who…, t-thank you?”
“Alright, let’s go somewhere else, shall we?” Tafel asked. There were a few intrepid townsmen peaking at her from behind the corners of some buildings. She opened a portal and stepped through, bringing the woman with her. The two were greeted by the sound of rushing water and a startled cat. “So…,” Tafel said and took a seat on the log she had previously used as a chair while fishing in the river. “You’re a witch?”
“I-I’m not,” the woman said. She had on dirty clothes, but the material they were made out of wasn’t poor by any measure. Her face was haggard, and she had wrinkles adorning her face. She glanced at Tafel, her gaze shifting from the demon’s eyes to the demon’s horns. “I think. I mean, until you saved me, I was absolutely sure I had nothing to do with witchcraft.”
Tafel scratched her head. “Then why were you being accused of being a witch? That man even went so far as to sentence you to death by burning.”
“Because I’m rich,” the woman said and sighed. “My husband and children died in an accident. Neither my husband nor I have family beyond each other, so my husband’s wealth was left in my hands. The local bishop caught wind of that and accused me of being a witch. Once I die, the church will seize my property in the name of the Lord.”
“Wow,” Tafel said and raised an eyebrow. “That’s pretty messed up. Didn’t they have to bring evidence against you?”
“The evidence was the bishop saying the Lord told him so.”
Tafel’s brow wrinkled. “Does this lord exist?”
The woman stared at Tafel, her horns in particular. “If you exist, the Lord must exist as well. Why did you help me? Are you a devil?”
Tafel sighed. “I’m not a devil. I’m a demon. There really is a difference!” She exhaled through her nostrils and calmed herself down. “I helped you because I couldn’t just watch someone be burned to death.”
“Because you wanted to do it yourself?”
“No…?”
“Because you want my soul?”
“No!”
“Because you—”
“Because I’m a good person, okay!?”
First paragraph, about 3/4 the way through
“pulling her head over her head.”
Maybe should be:
‘pulling her hood over her head.’