Witches by Phil Stern Page A

kind, the sorceress was a master at foiling pursuit, sending him off on false trails as she merrily disappeared into the night.
    Yet now, his quarry’s pattern established, confounding spells carefully studied and overcome, the wizard was ready. Tonight would be a different story.
     
    ***
     
    Three hours later the flame-haired girl strolled from the tavern laughing gaily, hand-in-hand with Ben Jacobs, a robust youth of 23 who’d just inherited the family farm. With his newfound wealth and prominence, young Ben was set to marry Henry Perkins’ sweet 16-year-old daughter in just two weeks.
    It was considered a good match for Lacy Perkins. Though Ben had a wicked temper and couldn’t handle his liquor very well, the Jacobs farm was one of the most prosperous in the whole county.
    And now, thought the watcher from across the street, on the cusp of this blessed union, a debauched enchantress sought to ruin the happy groom? It hardly seemed possible. Yet witches were a power unto themselves, constrained not a whit by their own adulterated morality. They could do whatever they liked. That is, until now.
    Leaning in for a kiss, young Ben fell fast asleep the moment his lips touched the sorceress. “That’s better,” sighed Keyla, easily manhandling the strapping youth over the rear of her horse. Whispering an incantation in place of a more mundane rope, the witch then leapt upon her steed, tearing over the town square and into the surrounding countryside, Ben staying impossibly immobile upon the bounding mare.
    Grasping his own throbbing talisman, a rock as black as coal hanging from his belt, the wizard magically transported himself to the witch’s side. As if riding an invisible horse of his own, the tall, muscular man easily paced the galloping girl. Impervious to her anti-tracking spells, the man’s presence went undetected. Perhaps if he remained hidden long enough, Keyla might even lead him to the witches mystical homeland.
    But it was not to be. Sensing something amiss, the witch pulled up in a clearing. “Who’s there!” Keyla shouted, leaping to the ground, tearing her sword from a saddle scabbard. “Show yourself!” And so saying the sorceress unleashed a location spell, which began instantly tugging away the wizard’s invisibility cloak.
    No matter. Stepping into plain view, the moonlight playing lightly on his grim features, the magician also drew a sword. “I’ve come for you, witch.”
    Snapping her fingers, the clearing was instantly as bright as day. “So you are real!” Keyla exclaimed, looking her tall opponent up and down. “A man with power, such as us. A man who thinks he can hunt women with impunity!”
    “Surrender, witch,” snarled the sorcerer. “Give me your earth stone and it will go easier on you.”
    “My earth stone? I think not.” Unconsciously, she touched the pulsating green talisman. “What have you done with my sisters?”
    “They are safe.” The wizard allowed himself a small smile. “For now.”
    Furious, Keyla expertly twirled the heavy sword from one hand to the other, sparks of earth fire dancing off into the night. “Tell me where they are and I will grant you a clean death.”
    “You impertinent girl!” barked the sorcerer, his face now contorting in rage. “You will serve me as they do!”
    “Serve you?” Keyla laughed. “I serve no man.” And so saying, Keyla swung the blade with all her might.
    But it was soon over. Within moments the young witch was lying on her back, nearly unconscious, a gaping gash above one ear. Blood flowed freely into the hard soil. Split asunder, her broken sword lay nearby.
    Breathing hard, the warrior took a moment to savor his victory, silently thanking the dark god from which his own power sprung. Then leaning down, he viciously tugged the earth stone from her neck, the chain parting with a resounding snap. Upon separation from the stone Keyla gasped for air, her life clearly seeping away.
    “I should let you die,