Charge

Chapter 3 - The Witch in the Woods - Part 1

        The Order is a division of the Empire set up fifteen years ago to aid in the elimination of Charges. Comprised exclusively of sanctioned wielders of magic – wizards and witches who lack the innate Charge gene – these individuals possess the ability to harness magical forces solely through the conduit of spells and rituals. I've been lucky enough to never cross paths with a member of The Order and I doubt I'd live to tell the tale if I had. Each member is highly trained and shares one purpose - identifying and eliminating the Charge gene to extinction. I have no doubt they'll be hot on our tails.

        A strong grip pulls me out of my thoughts as I'm dragged through a thick, suffocating sludge. Consciousness floods back and I try moving but my body is weighed down. I strain against the hold and a groan escapes my throat, but it gets lost in the water. The tension breaks and my body is released from the water, but my lungs remain full of it. Strong arms pull me onto a small patch of mud as I gag and splutter.
        "Cough all the water out and breathe," a rough voice commands.
After hacking up half the contents of my stomach and taking several deep breaths, my body slowly relaxes and my strength returns. "That's it," I'm soaked to the bone, hair sticking to my face. Cal sits beside me, combing his fingers through wet strands of black hair. I look back up to the ship hovering in the sky, revelling in just how far we fell.
        "We made it," I gasp, looking back at Cal. He's already back on his feet, brushing the dirt from his clothes.
        "I thought there was no 'we'," he says lowly, looking behind him to get his bearings. With a sudden fire in my stomach, I force myself up, lifting my chin.
        "There isn't,"
        "Good,"
        "Good," We stare at each other, the silence heavy. He glances around again, searching for something. His eyebrows furrow together in concentration and his jaw clenches before he turns to walk off into the swamp. "Hey! Where are you going?" I snap. "You can't just leave me here! I don't even know where we are!" I can't believe I'm actually asking him to wait for me - but he's once again a means to an end. As soon as I know where I am, those seven skies I want between us will become a reality.
        "Then, by all means, pirate, follow along," he snaps back. I scowl in response, catching up to the most infuriating man and walking side by side. Neither of us takes our attention away from what's in front of us, animosity settling in the silence.

        The air is thick and moist, clinging to my skin and preventing my clothes from drying. Each step feels unsettling with how used I am to walking in The Above, to feeling the air beneath the floor. Here the dirt feels full and deep under my boots, making me feel insignificant - not to mention unsteady. I suck it up and keep walking though, I'm not about to make myself look even weaker in front of Cal - he's already seen me chained to the floor of a cell and vomiting up water. That's already shame enough. We both trudge through the marshlands, simmering pots of unresolved anger.
        "Where are we going?" I ask finally, breaking the silence. Cal doesn't reply immediately, taking a few more steps before glancing in my direction for the first time since we started walking.
        "To see an old friend," he responds.
        "You have friends?" I retort, thinking only of his cold and sharp demeanour, wondering how anyone would want to be friends with that.
        "Careful, pirate," he warns, giving me another pointed glare. "I'm doing you a favour, don't make me regret it," I bite my tongue and look away, trying to stop the burning sensation of embarrassment and anger creeping up on me. We continue marching along in the dark for a few moments longer, both of us lost in our thoughts.

        If it weren't for the exhaustion and pain wreaking havoc on my body I might actually call this swamp beautiful. Moss and vines are lit by the moonlight and small glowing flowers bloom up the spiralling branches of the trees. The mud path has slowly turned to dirt, making the journey a little less treacherous.
        "We should make camp here," Cal says, coming to a halt for the first time in a quarter rotation. I nod silently in agreement, needing no persuading. I fall onto the ground in the dirt, exhausted beyond all belief.
        "Gods, is this what death feels like?" I sigh, massaging the skin on my wrists that got rubbed raw from the cuffs.
        "I imagine death is a great deal nicer," Cal reaches to the branches near his head and snaps a few off, bundling them under his arm. He stops for a second, looking down at where I sit. "You can make fire, right?" I nod hesitantly, feeling the heat in my fingertips.
        "Yes but is starting a fire a good idea? We're on the run," I remind him.
        "If we don't, we'll freeze before the sun rises," he arranges the sticks before me. "and I did not make it this far to die from the cold," Cal looks back into the sky, swallowing a lump in his throat. I sigh, rubbing my palms together. It feels wrong to use my magic so crudely, especially with how inexperienced I am with my strength.
        "Step back," I warn. Cal obliges and I lean over to the broken branches surrounded by dry leaves and twigs. I quickly remember my bandages, unwrapping them from my hands in preparation, revealing my Charge mark to be glowing with a deep orange hue. Cal stares unabashedly at our shared skin marking, clenching his fists. I breathe slowly, extending my fingers outward and cooing the magic trapped under my skin outward. Soft tendrils of orange and red turn to flames, engulfing the makeshift campfire. A soft smile creeps across my face at how freeing it feels. The crackle of the fire fills the air and I take a deep breath, closing my eyes for a second and letting the warmth seep into my tired bones. Cal sits on the opposite side, cautiously reaching out to the heat. The fire flickers making shadows dance across his face, his freshly treated gash

        "This friend of yours, how do you know they won't just turn us over to the Empire?" I ask, drawing in the dirt by my feet. Neither of us can commit to sleep despite how tired we may feel. There seems to be a mutual fear of being stabbed by the other as we slumber, so we sit awake by the slowly dying fire.
        "They're not exactly on friendly terms with the Empire themselves," Cal replies, not lifting his stare.
        "But they're friends with you?" I press.
        "You ask too many questions, pirate," he waves a hand dismissively.
        "Would it kill you to say my name?"
        "I don't know, it might just," he shoots back, black eyes narrowing. I sigh, exasperated. I don't have the energy to bicker with him right now. I lay back against the moss, and look through the branches at the stars. They look so small from down here on The Surface. I bet I must look pretty small to them, too.

        The last thing I remember is lying on my back and suddenly I'm waking up from a small, dreamless sleep. My body aches and my head throbs violently, but I force myself to sit up nonetheless. It's quiet, almost eerily so. For a second I consider just laying back down, until I remember why it was I didn't want to close my eyes. My heart thumps as I look quickly over to Cal, expecting him to be holding a rock over my head or his shirt ready to smother me. But instead, he lies uncomfortably on his side across the camp, dormant. Snoring. I let out a breath of relief, running my fingers through my dishevelled hair. The fire has gone out but a dusting of orange magic remains in the air over the ashes. With a quick flick of the wrist, I bring the ashes back to life in a flurry of heat and flames. I don't think I'll ever get tired of that. The sun is only just peeking over the horizon, painting the swamp with a subtle golden glow. Cal rolls over onto his back, groaning quietly as he pushes himself into an upright position.
        "Gods, how long was I out?" he murmurs groggily. "Is that the sun?" in moments Cal has pulled himself onto his feet with the same strange elegance he embodies in all his movements.
        "It's only just beginning to rise," I reply, standing up with much less grace. My whole body feels sore and heavy from sleeping on the dirt, but thankful for the rest.
        "We should get going," I nod, reaching out to the freshly born flames and snuffing them out with a wave of my fingertips. "We're not far off," Cal squints, eyes adjusting to the early dawn light as he gathers his bearings. "This way,"

        Cal's definition of 'not far off' must be wildly different to mine, the sun now sitting in the middle of the sky and no end in sight. My boots are caked in mud and I don't imagine the stench leaving the leather now that it's settled. I paid good silver for these boots, what a waste. Cal walks ahead, clearly impatient, whilst I struggle to keep pace. Over the years I've been able to rely on my strength over stamina, the most distance being from one side of port to another or simply the length of my ship. My chest heaves at the thought of my ship - The Scarlet Dread - and what's surely become of her. I imagine it's already been torn for parts, used to make supplies for the Empire. A sick sensation fills my stomach - the wood of my ship used to make benches for Imperial forces to sit their arses on. Unforgivable.

        Midday turns to evening and my body is craving any kind of sustenance. It's torturous how much moisture is in the air, my throat dry and pleading for water. Even Cal seems to be struggling, taking heavier steps and breathing short, ragged breaths. My white shirt is stained with a mixture of dirt and dried blood, sweat making it cling to my skin. Maybe I should've just stayed in that cell.
        "Finally," Cal gasps, his steps coming to a halt. Beyond him is a small clearing, shielded by the wide branches of the swamp. A wooden house stands in the centre, a myriad of plants and flowers decorating the walls and posts. Candlelight filters through the windows and beneath the large front door, the scent of smoked meat and herbs gnawing at my stomach. Cal takes a deep breath, rubbing his sweaty palms against his shirt before tidying his hair into a ponytail at the base of his neck. I subconsciously go to fix my hair, gathering it into a bun to try and hide the mess. Cal doesn't approach the house in the woods, though, standing firmly in place.
        "What's wrong?" I ask, desperate to get inside and if I'm lucky, get my hands on some of that smoked meat.
        "Nothing, nothing," he murmurs, but his fingers betray him, fiddling on the hem of his pockets nervously.
        "Then let's go," I take charge, walking down the cragged stone path and minding the patches of moss. I smirk briefly as Cal follows me, finally feeling in control even if just for a moment.

        Shrubs of lilacs sit in wicker baskets on either side of the door. In the middle sits an ornate, golden door knocker with engravings of vines twisting around the metal. Cal and I share a look of uncertainty before he reaches for the handle, knocking it against the door with three heavy thumps. At first, nothing happens.
        "Should we knock again?" I ask awkwardly, shifting from one foot to the other.
        "No, be patient," Cal hisses. "If you're capable,"
        "I'm more than capable of being patient,"
        "Every action you've made since I've met you would suggest otherwise,"
        "Listen here you little sh*t-" All of a sudden the door shoots open, throwing my words back into my throat.
        "By the Gods, alive and gone... Cal?"
        "Hey, Cordelia... how've you been?"