Hemlock And The Wizard Tower (Book 1) (43 page)

Hemlock quickly took stock of the battle around Tored and could see
the fallen
bodies of
his
honor guard surrounding his prone form.
 
They were all dead now.
 
A few Tanna
Varran
s were still rushing to his defense, but the Witch herself was looming
close to the Tanna Varran hero
, and slaying
any brave enough to oppose her.

Hemlock realized, to her horror, that there were simply too many of these more powerful spirits between her and
Tored.

"I won't get to him!
 
The Witch is too close
,
" she
realized with a shock.

Despite the feeling of dejection that she was experiencing, s
he slew
another
one of the many ornately dressed ghosts that stood in her way and she kept fighting forward, even though she feared that it was already
a lost cause.

To her great surprise and relief,
she saw Taros Ranvok descend
suddenly from the sky
, wings extended, and confront
the Witch as she
approached
Tored.  Hemlock saw
Taros Ranvok’s personal
guard land behind him, but they were quickly engaged by nearby spirits. 

Taros Ranvok faced the Witch alone.

"We will resist you to the end!" he cried
,
thr
owing
one of his spears at the une
arthly apparition of the Witch.

Hemlock still had her own battles to fight, but despite her peril, her attention kept returning to the fight between Taros Ranvok and the Witch.

The Witch
responded
to Taros Ranvok's attack with
a laugh and a crack of her
multi-headed
whip, which deflected his
thrown
spear in mid
-
air.

He held his other spear defensively as the Witch drew back and whipped him directly in the chest, causing him to
recoil and
cough up blood. 
Recovering, h
e surged forward to charge, but she quickly whipped him again, and he fell to one knee.

Seven times she whipped Taros Ranvok, and though his suffering was great, he did not retreat
before the Witch's fury.

Hemlock desperately fought her way closer and closer to the scene, sl
aying a great many of the Witch’
s
spirit warriors
, but the spirits were great in nu
mber and seemingly without fear;
new ones continued to replace their fallen brethren,
continually
impeding Hemlock’s progress.

Hemlock could see that Taros Ranvok was gravely wounded, even though he was still defiant.

Though it was dangerous for her to do so, Hemlock found that she could not look away as the Witch
stood at her tallest and drew her arm back as
her features contorte
d with
rage.
 
She struck Taros Ranvok again and this time the whip wrapped around his neck.

In
an expression of a fury fully realized
, the Witch jerked the whip back toward her with all of her strength.

All that Hemlock could do was scream in horror, knowing that she could
do nothing to
stop the
scene which unfolded before her
.

Many Tanna
Varran
s paused in horror and fear at that moment, as they witnessed the death of Taros Ranv
ok.
His neck snapped
under the violent force of the Witch and her whip
.
 
H
is body
was
thrown many feet
and landed
like a limp ragdoll before the Witch.

As He
mlock fought through the final g
host separating her from the Witch, she saw the Witch gloating over Taros Ranvok.
 
As the Witch laughed, her serpentine tongue flicked from her mouth and her haughty laughter, echoing in its supernatural way, demoralized the Tanna
Varran
s further.

Hemlock arrived in front of the Witch in a fury and began to rain down blows on the ancient Ghost.

I can still save Tored
, she vowed.

The Witch,
smiling
with recognition, cracked her great whip, and although it missed Hemlock, it emitted a shockwave that caused Hemlock to lose her footing and fall.
 
The Witch turned toward Hemlock and laughed a terrible
cackle
that echoed over the battlefield, as she took a step over the fallen body of Taros Ranvok.
 
The laugh
compelled
Hemlock to recoil
away
, for it carried a force that seemed almost physical.
 
Hemlock's magical affinity talent
was registering something about
the magic carried in that voice, but quickly the Witch stuck again, and Hemlock was forced to leap to he
r feet to avoid the strike.

The next
time
the Witch struck,
Hemlock was re
ady for the crack of that whip
and braced herself for the shockwave.
 
The Witch, overconfident, turned away from Hemlock and with another stroke of her whip slew a nearby Tanna
Varran
, who
was fighting to protect Tored.

Hemlock was on the Witch in that instant, striking her twice in the arm with her sabres, whi
ch bit into the Witch with the
enchanted power bestowed by Tanna
Varran
blessings.
 
The Witch cried out loudly in surprise and leapt backward.
 
The spirits nearby all rushed at Hemlock, but suddenl
y a voice halted their advance.

"She is mine!" cried the Witch angrily
in her beautiful voice
, and every spirit halted instantly.

Hemlock and the Witch stared one another down.
 

Hemlock had no doubt
that this was a foe quite unlike any other that she had faced
–
with a speed and power at least equal to her own.
 
This thought did not deter her, however, for the intensity of the battle and the death of Taros Ranvok had already wiped away any notion of
self-preservation from her mind.

In the space of one heartbeat, the Witch began her attack, which was unprecedented
to all present
in its rage and aggression.
 
Her whip cracked and her luminescent limbs moved with supernatural speed, raining blows down on
Hemlock.

Hemlock bent under the strain of
the
onslaught, sustaining several
concussive
wounds from near misses by the whip.
 
These left great bruises on her body and those areas started
to tighten up as they swelled.

Hemlock tried to riposte, but she simply couldn't find an opening
–
the Witch was too fast and seemingly had unlimited endurance.

"FEAR!" screamed
the Witch
and Hemlock, to her great surprise, felt fear.

The fear gnawed at Hemlock
’s concentration
as the Witch pressed the attack
–
cracking her dark whip faster and faster as if she fed on Hemlock’s fear.

Hemlock soon lost her focus and her movements became forced.  She was struck in the arm by the whip and her arm began to feel numb.

"FEAR!" screamed the Witch again with an incredible volume that echoed through the Valley.  She pressed the attack again.

Hemlo
ck was struck again by the whip–
this time in the leg as the fear interfered with her reflexes. 
In addition to this new wound, h
er arm was beginning to throb with a dull pain and becoming
unresponsive
.

Hemlock
realized
that she was weakening dangerously. 

H
emlock feared that the Witch might slay her at any moment.

This was not a thought borne of
the
magical fear
,
but from some new voi
ce within her that was
devoid of any emotional context.

Hemlock suddenly felt deconstructed, like many surface layers of her consciousness
were peeling
away, leaving something elemental within.  This
newly revealed
being was
incapable of
fear, and
it was a
darkness
that
was not oppressive or malicious
–
rather it was a void, null and completely without form.  All
this part of Hemlock
was concerned with was survival
,
and it took control
of her
completely.

Where
as
before
her injuries,
Hemlock had possessed unnatural speed, now she became supernatural
,
displaying a speed which defied comparison.  Where her blows had before landed with a force that seemed almost impossible for her size and body mass, now her blows seemed to strike with elephantine weight behind them.  Her eyes became dull as they darted to and fro with the flow of the combat.

Soon no
normal d
emo
n or g
host could conscience her gaze or the threat of her attack.  Wh
ile
before they had been held at bay by the will of the Witch, now they fell back from
Hemlock
in waves
of fear,
leaving only the
shimmering beauty
of the Witch
and her three headed whip to confront Hemlock.

Hemlock moved against the Witch with renewed vigor, no longer conscious of any fear or wounds.

As the Witch parried and then began to fall back under the weight of Hemlock’s new power, her visage began to transform.  Each time that she contorted her face in rage, it seemed like some of her unearthly beauty faded away.  After several minutes, the Witch was
no longer beautiful
– she now had the appearance of a hideously disfigured
,
ancient crone.

This transformation d
id not weaken the Witch however–
rather it seemed to enhance her abilities.  Her strength soon exceeded even Hemlock’s, which itself had swelled to an unearthly proportion.  She was not faster than Hemlock, but the Witch seemed to shrug off Hemlock’s sabres with alarming ease.

The battle continued for another few minutes, with the Witch continuing to display an advantage over Hemlock.

Finally, Hemlock was exhausted, and a direct impact from the whip struck her down to the ground.  She struggled to maintain consciousness, and her vision became cloudy.

Without warning, Hemlock’s consciousness seemed to be transported to some inner space.

She stared into a great lattice of
interconnected
existence and thought.
 
Within this void w
ere an infinite number of versions of herself, each connected by a tendril of time and space which she was able to perceive with som
e sense which was alien to her.

She saw these same tendrils extending out from her
own
spirit body.
 

She beheld n
earby incarnations
that
were going about their lives.
 
Most were oblivious to her but some seemed to sense her and
even give her their attention.

Her spirit, still in great peril,
involuntarily
reached out to them.
 
Most
of the other incarnations
answered
this plea,
although some resisted her call and Hemlock sensed that they were engaged in their own diffi
culties and could not help her.

There was a sensation like a thunderclap
,
although it was not rendered in any familiar sensory impressions.
 
She perceived energy traveling along the network of tendrils
toward her.