Harrison and Margorie were sent to different cells, as men and women were segregated and kept on different floors for obvious reasons. Once led to her cell, Margorie was chained to the wall, which was done to all witches to make sure they didn’t roam around and find ways to cause trouble. Her chains allowed her walk up to the door to accept meals but no further, and she sat down on the unpleasant cot next to the wall and deeply sighed. This was going to be a very uncomfortable stay for her, and she already knew better than to try to cast magic. She could sense the anti-hex spells and noticed a few symbols in the walls the told her the royal mages made sure this place made using their power next to useless. Even if she wanted to give it a try, knowing that Chaos magic was far more powerful than anyone could imagine, the old witch decided to be patient. It depressed her to see the people who had no patience for witches, despite the fact that they had all helped the royal family defend the kingdom from people who meant to do them all harm. Their reward for all those dedicated hours was to turn their backs on them. A gesture that was about as cold and uncaring as the monarchs themselves. Margorie sat there in silence and barely said a word, aware that the guards were listening and made sure that the witches never consorted nor conspired amongst one another. To keep them from getting too chummy with one another, the prisoners were rotated so that they could get comfortable or too casual with their cell mates. Margorie was actually along for her first few days, but that soon changed as another witched was dragged into her cell and chained to the cot that was across from the older women. Her newest arrival, which was Margorie’s fourth cell mate since arriving, was a little younger than her. The new lady had red hair and looked like she had been living in the dungeon a little longer then she had. She had been sitting there for hours, before either of them would bother to speak.
“Where did they find you?” the woman asked Margorie.
“At a logging camps in the woods,” Margorie answered, “I was helping the men there serve the crown but that still didn’t matter. So, here I am.”
“Here we are,” the woman said, smiling back. “I’m Alyssa.”
“Margorie,” the old woman said, “A pleasure to meet a fellow witch.”
“Nothing but witches here,” Alyssa confirmed, “Except for a few stragglers.”
“My boss was brought here too,” Margorie confirmed, “Accused of harboring witches or some other nonsense.”
“I’ve been here for a very long time,” Alyssa continued, “I was one of the first they arrested here in the city.”
“That is a very long time to be in here, dear.” Margorie said as she looked around to make sure no one else was watching. She whispered a few words and started to conjure up some fresh food for them both to eat. Alyssa’s eyes were wide with shock as she took half of the food from the old lady.
“How is that possible?” Alyssa asked, “The mages put up totems and other things to prevent us from being able to use magic!”
“Your magic, perhaps,” Margorie explained, “But not mine.”
“Damn,” Alyssa said, as she started to eat her food, “You’re a witch of chaos.”
“I am,” Margorie confirmed, “Totems and other tricks are too weak for my power.”
“Good to know,” Alyssa replied, “I wish I could do that.”
“You can,” Margorie informed her, “All witches can do chaos magic.”
“Excuse me?” Alyssa said, shocked. “You can teach us?”
“I can,” Margorie said, grinning. “And every time they rotate you out, all they’re doing is giving me another witch to teach my craft to. After enough of you come through here, we should have enough witches to fight back in a few weeks.”
“That is the best idea I’ve heard since I got here,” Alyssa admitted, “Count me in!”
“Finish your food, dear.” Margorie said, “I sense someone powerful approaching.”
Alyssa did as she was told and consumed the rest of her food before the guards showed up to their cell. Even if Margorie couldn’t sense the power of the person who was coming closer, the added guards would have given away that someone of importance was about to come into the hallway. Her instincts were fulfilled as a mage wearing a white robe with golden trims came storming into the hallway and strolled up to the cell where Margorie was sitting with her new cellmate.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“You, the old one.” The mage called out, “Are you the witch that the soldiers captured at the logging camp?”
“I am,” Margorie said, as she stood up to address the mage. “I am Margorie, and I was actually serving the crown by feeding his lumberjacks when you took me in. Is this how you reward women who work hard to help the kingdom?”
“Apologies,” The mage replied, which appeared to sound sincere, “The crown made a decision that was in conflict with my own recommendations. Like all citizens of our great kingdom, witches deserved to be considered innocent until proven of wrongdoing.”
“I appreciate that,” Margorie admitted, “but it appears your influence over the crown isn’t as impactful as you would prefer.”
“It’s there,” the mage resisted, “But there are times when wise words are ignored.”
“Who are you?” Margorie asked him, “I assume you’re a royal mage, based on your fine threads… but you’ve failed to formally introduce yourself.”
“I am Gandalus,” the man replied, “The king’s mage, and I need to speak to you about the young witch who escaped your logging camp.”
“What about her?” Margorie asked.
“I spoke with her before she destroyed one of my totems,” The mage replied, “But not before I had a chance to speak with her. Is it true that young Ginelle has befriended a dragon?”
“What did you say?” Alyssa said, as she stood up.
Margorie held her hand up and basically asked without saying a word for the younger witch to be quiet and return to her cot, which she did.
“With training, witches are capable of speaking with and befriending any creature,” Margorie answered, “I myself recruited a few critters at the logging camp, and they were quite helpful when I was performing my duties.”
“And this Ginelle was given such training,” Gandalus inquired.
“Ginelle had a talent for it,” Margorie replied, “And she befriended quite a few creatures when she was living with at the logging camp with me. And yes, she did befriend a dragon that took a liking to her. You know that’s how she escaped your men as she rode it out of your territory. She’s no longer in your kingdom anymore and is far from your reaches.”
“We shall see about that,” Gandalus said, appearing defiant of her.
“I don’t recommend going after her,” Margorie said, as she stepped closer to the bars of her cell. “She has my books and has continued training in my absence. She has also taken to my specialization quite naturally.”
“You mean chaos magic?” Gandalus asked, “She told me about that, but I’m not worried about it. She will not be the first chaos witch I ever faced.”
“If you’re not careful, she might be your last.” Margorie warned him.
“She’s that powerful?” the mage asked her.
“Ginelle has potential,” Margorie answered, “And she’s got a good heart, which is what could make her stronger than you can ever imagine. This is why her creatures are quite loyal to her and would slaughter legions of your men to protect her.”
“We shall see,” Gandalus repeated, as Margorie’s words appeared to anger him. “There is no way we can allow a witch that powerful to remain at large.”
“She’s just a child!” Alyssa finally called out, angered by his words. “What kind of man are you to chase and bully a child?
“She didn’t appear that young to me,” the mage confessed.
“Life has forced her to mature,” Margorie added, “But that was your king’s doing.”
“Explain,” Gandalus asked, as he didn’t believe her.
“Ginelle used to live in this city,” Margorie explained to the mage, “And if you never went after the witches, she’d still be in school with the other kids. She would be a normal, harmless child if you just left her alone. You created this problem, and that is why I recommend leaving her be wherever she is. Do not give her a reason to become your adversary.”
“That’s an interesting theory,” Gandalus conceded, “And one I regret if it’s true. I never approved of this act against the witches nor recommended it, but I am compelled to support my king’s will.”
“That is unfortunate,” Margorie said, “Because you should be allowed to ignore his will if the decision he’s making is wrong.”
“We were on your side!” Alyssa added, as her anger was evident. “The next time a war breaks out, we won’t be there to heal your soldiers. You and your pompous mages can go out to the frontlines and do it yourself!”
“Not the reaction I anticipated,” Gandalus confessed, “But I will pass along your threats to those above me to remind of them of what we could lose in the long run.”
“You do that,” Margorie said, shuffling closer to him, “And heed my words.”
The mage didn’t respond to her and instead turned and left the cell block, returning to his own plush living space to think about what she said and what to do about it. Margorie took a deep breath herself and shuffled back to her own cot and took a seat. She looked at her new cell mate who looked more distraught then ever before.
“What is it dear?” she asked.
Alyssa looked back up at Margorie with tears in her eyes.
“You said the child’s name was Ginelle,” Alyssa started, “But that can’t be her. She’s supposed to be in Luxburg with my sister and her husband!”
“I’m not sure what to tell you,” Margorie replied, “but my lumberjacks found her in the woods, hiding in a tree scared and alone. They brought her back to the camp and she lodged with me for a little over a year. I continued her training and added chaos magic to her arsenal. Apologies if you don’t approve, but I also taught her healing magic and how to converse with animals. Those two appear to be what saved her life.”
“And all this about a dragon,” Alyssa inquired, “Is that true as well?”
“It is,” Margorie replied, “His name is Ruki, and he appears to like her very much since she helped heal his broken tooth. She rode Ruki away from this kingdom and is living far away from their reaches.”
“I’m happy to hear that,” Alyssa said, sitting back down on her cot.
“If you don’t mind me asking,” Margorie said, “But how do you know Ginelle?”
“I know her well,” Alyssa confessed, “I’m her mother.”