“No, Morell.” Ignatius laughed. “I’m afraid witches have tried that for centuries. We’ve made offerings, sacrifices, built altars and chanted until our voices are gone. No, I don’t believe she’s the type to come when called but will return when the time is right.”

  “And Siousxie’s birth wasn’t a sign?”

  “No, the lightning witches aren’t born, they come into being by a vortex of arcane magick crashing across the sky.”

  “But she was a person present in the times of old?” asked Hoxley

  “Yes. She was as real as you or me and she lived amongst our people as a guide and protector.”

  “What became of her mortal remains when she died?” asked Morell. “Does she have a tomb?”

  “No, she does not. She merely vanished without a trace. After that, we’ve waited and waited for a sign, a glimmer, anything. In time, our faith has not wavered, but our vitality does dwindle without her.”

  “I wish there was something I could do to help the witches.” Morell told Hoxley.

  “What a kind thing to say.” Smiled Hoxley “It's good that you see the needs of others and want to help them. That’s a sign of a healthy heart.”

  “I wish my ankle didn’t hurt so much.” He added.

  “Perhaps I may be able to help you with that.” said Ignatius. “Let’s give Hoxley a small rest.” He held out his hand. “Let me carry you the last leg back to the temple.” Morell let go of his horned steed and held his arms out. The tall witch removed his hat, stepped closer and in a single effortless motion snatched Morell up by the armpits to hoist him high where he sat upon Ignatius shoulders.

  “Better?” he asked Hoxley

  “Much, thank you.” She thanked him. “He’s not too heavy but it has been a long trek.”

  Across the field they continued, the temple growing larger. Robert emerged like a shot from the higher story and circled about overhead. Once, twice, three times he flitted about before swooping low. Siouxsie held her hands high above her head and was rewarded when her twin dropped a pair of brooms. She caught one in each hand before tossing the longer of the two back to Ignatius. Being reunited with the item gave her renewed vigor. Siouxsie practically leapt in place as she hugged it. One blink of an eye later she was mounting it and rocketing skyward. The twins spun and circled around each other laughing and giggling before jetting off over the trees and out of sight.

  “Good to see some spirits are returning.” Atticus said as he enjoyed having a lighter spear over his shoulder. All around the ruins, more and more graves and tombs built into the sides of hills lay open and bare. Here and there the rotten shreds of old funeral shrouds blew upon the wind.

  “What’s this?” asked Loxo. “All these graves are open!”

  “It was like this when we came through her the first time. Such an eerie thing.” Said Hoxley. “Who would desecrate the grounds of the dead, and for what reason?”

  “If they were robbing the graves for riches, what happened to the bodies?” asked Morell. The truth of the boy’s statement left everyone with a sudden chill. The graves were entirely empty. The shrouds tumbled away in strips and rags without their corpses to hold them in place.

  “It makes no sense.” Ignatius frowned. “If I were to get my hands on the person who did this…”

  “It must be a group effort, yes?” asked Atticus “One person couldn’t upturn all these resting places on their own. Could Lord Baltus’ henchmen be behind it?”

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  “The most likely answer.” Admitted Hoxley. “Regardless of who, the why behind the act seems far more sinister. Let’s get inside. I don’t want to linger in the open any longer than we have to.” Inside the ruins, things looked as dismal as before. Dead leaves, branches and weeds littered the moldering stone floor. And as before, everyone congregated around the old fountain and its tepid meager contents.

  “Ah,” said Atticus. “This looks like a fine place to rest a bit before we carry on. Urf!” He grunted as he plopped down and laid his spear next to him. “Which begs the question; where are we to carry onto next?”

  “Where are we to go?” asked the prince. “We’ve traveled so far across the land, we’ve started heading back in the wrong direction.”

  “That is a conundrum.” Said Ignatius as he set Morrell down upon the edge of the fountain. “Do you mind if I take a look at your foot?” he asked the boy. Morell nodded he did not object as he clung the boot that should have been on the swollen limb. The witch squatted down and held the tender foot, the skin of the ankle appeared puffy and was purple about the heel. “Hmmm. Yesss. You’ve twisted it quite well.” he said. Morell, would you mind if I used a bit of magic to help it heal?”

  “Is there a healing spell?” the boy asked, brushing his red bangs from out of his eyes.

  “Something of the sort.” He said before raising his arms in a “V” “Hold still.”

  “Will this hurt?” asked Morell.

  “It will feel…strange.” He said, taking a knee and holding each of his hands on the opposite sides of the injured appendage. “Honus cyclonus.” Everyone nearby paused to watch the summoner. Whipping winds picked up all around them and rushed to concentrate upon the space between his fingers where Morell’s foot sat suspended. Louder and more ferocious the blustery winds grew until they reached a fever pitch. Morell looked frightened but tried not to move. Wild winds howled and hissed as they blew in from all sides to amass within the tiny space. Morell began to grimace and cringe, his hands gripping the edge of the fountain as thought he might be yanked into the center of the cyclone itself.

  “Its… it’s cold!” he shouted over the sound of the gusts. “It’s so cold!”

  “Just a little longer!” said the witch. High above them, the twins returned on their brooms and perched high upon the upper level of the ruins to watch. Morell thought about pulling the limb away, but with Siouxsie glaring down, he dared not pull away for fear of looking scared. And then, just as the din reached a fevered pitch and the sensations running through the limb seemed almost too much to bear, Ignatius removed his hands and clapped twice to dispel the magic. And all around them, the ruins became calm and quiet again. Before anyone could speak, Ignatius reached into his cloak with both hands and untied something. The hands then reemerged with a small thin black sash which he then used to tie around the ankle. It was tight, but not too tight. But more than that, the pain of the limb was far less than before. “And now?” asked the tall witch.

  “It feels… much better!” Smiled Morell, wiggling his toes.

  “See if you can put your weight upon it. Carefully, now.” The boy did as he was told and lowered himself down. The first foot was no trouble, but the second gingerly touched down before setting flat. A delicate step was followed by a second and third.

  “I can walk again!” he said. “It’s sore and tender but I can walk! Thank you, Ignatius! What did you do?”

  “A witchly remedy.” He said. “If we had some snow to put around it, it would have the same result. But since we lack those things, cold air can provide an equal effect for the swelling. You won’t be dancing for a while I’m afraid, but it’s not a permanent injury.”

  “I’m grateful, thank you, Ignatius!’”

  “Then the work was worth it’s time.”

  “Well done, witch!” Atticus thumped his shield upon the ground. “Well done! It’s a shame you don’t have a remedy old age, haw haw!”

  “There is a cure for it.” Ignatius remarked without looking at him “It comes for all of us and is quite final, I’m afraid.”

  “Well, that’s a certainly off-putting outlook of things.” quipped Loxo. Morell tried to walk a little. He found it to be difficult, but easier than before. An awkward hobble seemed sustainable for short distances. Siouxsie jumped from her observation point and floated down to land next to him.

  “You’re walking again! Ha Ha!” she laughed, slapping him between the shoulder blades. "'Morell the stampeding horse slayer' can’t be hindered for long!”

  “Horse slayer?” asked Ignatius with a raised eyebrow as he looked to Hoxley.

  “I didn’t see it myself, but the others claimed Morell downed a charging war horse with a single blow.”

  “I saw it!” offered the pirate “I saw the whole thing!” he gesticulated and used his whole body to play out the actions of the scene. “A rampaging beast it was, bearing down on Siouxsie and courageous Morell smashed the beast so heartily with a single mighty blow that even its ghost wandered away with bruises! None finer!”

  “Fascinating.” Ignatius said, scratching his chin. “And the prince tackled a horse alone and walked away without a serious injury? I must speak with this cyclops friend of Hoxley’s who fashioned these weapons.”

  “Do you think Bohga could help us?” Siouxsie asked the faun.