“No, you idiot, don’t let go of his-” Before the soldier holding the right arm could finish his warning, Robert’s free hand was already pulling the dagger from his belt and driving it into the soft flesh of the neck just above his collarbone of the soldier still holding him. Stunned, the man couldn’t let go of the arm but Robert was already twisting the limb about and driving the soles of his winklepickers up the mans’ thighs, scaling him like a tree until he was high enough to put the back of his left knee over the soldiers’ right shoulder and clamped it down like an extra arm before yanking the dagger out and driving it back into the mans’ neck twice, three times, four times, five. Immobile from shock, the man toppled backward like a felled tree, Robert screaming into his face and stabbing like an animal unhinged from its sanity all the way down until they hit the ground. Upon impact, Robert tucked into a roll and bounced to his feet already stalking the other soldier who’d held him. The frightened soldier backed away, a shaking hand nervously fumbling his sword from its scabbard.

  “That’s right, you filth.” Robert hissed as he slowly advanced upon him with his arms raised high in a “V” to the sky. “Pull that blade and get what’s coming to you.”

  “Stay away from me!” the soldier warned, as he made a desperate horizontal swing to try and deter the advance.

  “Tinder and cinder!” A flurry of six white hot balls of fire shot from Robert’s hands, striking the soldier in the legs, gut, chest arm and head. After reeling from the impact, the man started to flail and swat at the flames eating his clothing.

  “Ahhhh! Get it off!” the man cried, swatting his own head to stop the burning as it ate his hair. “Stop it! Get it off! Help!” Trying to get the fire to stop, he dropped his sword and slapped at his burning clothing, even going so far as to roll on the ground in an attempt to shake it loose. The licking flames spread faster now, eating his shirt and trousers. Within seconds he was fully engulfed and he ran in panic; yelling and flailing in vain to escape. Black smoke poured off his head, the skin melting, the man screaming one last pitiful cry before succumbing and falling into a silent charred pile upon the grass. With two down, Robert’s gaze fell upon the man still doubled over and trying to use his shirt to cinch off the bleeding wrist that continued to paint the field.

  “As for you….” Robert said through gritted teeth as he stooped low enough to snatch up the half of his broken broom that still held the lyythium tip embedded in the end. “I bet you have a lot of soft parts on you that should come off with little trouble.”

  “Now, now, Mr. Robert.” Loxo tried to interject. He stepped close to the path of the witch but had sense enough to not step between him and the wounded soldier. “There’s no need for any of that. This man is no longer a threat to us. I believe that if we simply let him go and leave him to bleed a trail back to his own kind…” The man was already ghostly pale in the face from shock and blood loss and couldn’t manage to get to his feet as much as he scooted sideways on the ground to keep out of reach of the dark figure bearing down on him.

  “Loxo, do you know much about witches?” He asked rhetorically. “There are four trespasses amongst witchkind. The first is that a witch can never use magic against another witch.” Robert said to Loxo, giving the broom handle a little flick of the wrist. “The second is to refuse food or shelter to anyone in need.” The blue, needle-like tip gleamed in the sunlight. “The third is to break your promises to another, and the fourth…” he paused to look upon the broken end of the wood and lyythium weapon in his hand as he stood over the soldier and planted a winklepicker upon the soldiers’ sword so that it couldn’t be picked up. “The fourth is to never sever the tie between a witch and their broom. The hammocks we sleep in hang from our broom. We need that sleep to retain our power. This slug sucking waste of skin just broke mine which means I won’t rest properly until I can fashion a new one or find a replacement.”

  “If it’s really that much trouble, I’ll find you a replacement broom.” Loxo offered.

  “I appreciate the gesture, pirate.” Robert said in a calm low tone as he picked up his hat and put it back on before resituating his scarf. “But I made a promise to put this man in a tree,” he gave the weapon a final flick, “And I aim to keep my word. If you have a weak stomach, I suggest you look away. The sight of viscera tends to lead some to vomit.”

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  Loxo couldn’t bear to watch what happened next and turned away to look at something else, anything else. It was by luck that he had, otherwise he never would have seen the gathering of several dozen men not far away with bows aimed high in their direction.

  “Robert! run! archers!” he cried out as he pointed. The witch twisted his head about just in time to see the threat descending upon him. The incoming volley of arrows looked like a swarm of lethal hornets. Loxo bolted for the wooden cart where he flung himself beneath it for cover. With no cover or time to waste, Robert improvised. He knelt down with knee on each side of the soldier lying on his back and grabbed two tight fists of the man’s shirt and armor.

  “Congratulations, pond scum. I have use for you,” Robert held on tight and rolled himself over so that he was now on his back and propping up the soldier with his knees like a makeshift shield. And it happened just in time. Dozens of sharp wooden arrows fell upon them striking everything and everyone exposed. *FFFFFFFFT* FFT* FFFT* FFFT* FFT FFT* Pained jerks and coughs burst from the soldier as arow after arrow sank deep into his flesh, puncturing muscle and organs. The expression on his face was nothing shy of horror. Time and again the sharp tines struck the ground all around them. One missed Robert’s left ear by a matter of inches. The soldier couldn’t cry out but only rasp and spasm as the ten arrows jutting out his back were likely through the lungs and stealing his breath. Robert tried to think small and keep his body beneath the dying man’s silhouette. *FFFT* FFFT* FFT* FT* FFFFT* After a moment or two, the last of the arrows fell and a death rattle gurgled in Robert’s face. Then the light from the man’s eyes vanished and he went limp. “Well done, pincushion.” He said, shoving the lifeless corpse aside. By the time he got to his feet, more projectiles were launching themselves in the distance. There was no time to hesitate. Robert snatched his weapon and sprinted the distance between himself and the cart just in time to throw himself beneath it. More arrows came quickly after and the poor horse pulling the cart didn’t have a chance. The pair could only watch as the rain of arrows embedded themselves ten at a time into the poor animal. A sad cry of anguish pushed past its lips before finally succumbing to its wounds and collapsing. The arrows piercing the head and eyes assured them it was dead before it hit the grass.

  “My horse!” loxo exclaimed.

  “It wasn’t your horse,” said Robert. “You were in the act of stealing it.”

  “I was merely borrowing it.”

  “You were borrowing to carry the pile of goods you stole.”

  “I was moving them out of the city to a safer location, young witch. What if bandits attacked the town while the people were incapacitated?”

  “I give up.” Said Robert. “But none of that is going to matter if we can’t get back to the kingdom with our lives. There’s nothing to hide behind between here and the tree line. It’s just open land. I bet the archers would love to have us out there.”

  “Why don’t you simply fly back and get the others?” asked Loxo. “I bet Hoxley and the other witches could make short work of them.”

  “Were you not paying attention?” asked Robert. “I can’t fly a broken broom!”

  “That does complicate things.” Overhead, the sound of rolling thunder filled the air. “Storm rumblings?” asked Loxo with a confused look. Both peered out from beneath the cart to see massive black clouds birthing themselves into existence out of a clear sky.

  “Ha!” Robert said with renewed enthusiasm. “Providence is upon us! My sister is coming for us!”

  “Your sister?” asked the pirate. “Are you sure?”

  “Who else can conjure a storm out of thin air? I’d hate to be one of those bow slingers now.” A faint rustle of flapping material sounded nearby. A black cloak with a pair of winkle pickers under it appeared at the edge of the cart before Siouxsie’s head peeked beneath it.