Escape from the Witch Hunters

Gillian watched them take Ryia into a building. He could see almost half the village from his vantage point. He made sure that no one was around when he hopped off of the tree. They would most likely be holding the trial tomorrow. He still had time to get a few things done.

“In there.” the guard shoved Ryia into her cell, allowing her to fall to the grimy dirt floor that was most likely crawling with bugs.

There was a small roll of cloth in the corner of the cell, a bucket in another corner, and a water dish unfit for a dog. Ryia tried not to whimper. They called this a cell? This wasn’t humane. Surely she could bring some charges against them.

They think I’m a murderer. I could hardly do anything. she slumped against the cold stone wall.

When would they feed her? Did she even want to eat the food that they would give her? With everything they’d already given her, she doubted it would be any better than stale bread and maybe moldy cheese.

Where was Gillian? Was he dying in the middle of the woods? Was he well and sitting in his house? Was he looking for her?

She shook her head. He wouldn’t be looking for me. she looked at the bars sadly. At least I’m not being a burden to him anymore.

She sighed. She wished he were looking for her. But she was just going to die in a few days anyway. It didn’t matter if he found her or not. There was nothing he could do.

She unrolled her bed and tried to rest her weary head, tossing and turning before finally falling into a fitful slumber.

He quickly stuck his bag of money in his saddlebag. It weighed more than he would have liked, but he would most likely need it all.

He hopped up the steps and back into his house, resulting in a sharp zing shooting up his leg.

“Dumb leg.” he slowed down and walked towards his bed, folded up the material that Ryia was going to sew before she got capture, stuffed it into a sack, and went back outside where he tied it to his horse. “How am I ever going to get onto you?” he shook his head and yanked the rope one last time, securing it.

Now for his outfit…it would need a bit of tweaking, but he could do it. There wasn’t that much to sewing. Was there?

Ryia jerked awake in a cold sweat and breathing heavily.

She remembered everything. Her house. Her mother. The illness. Running away on her horse, Chestnut. Getting thrown. Everything.

She was innocent. She hadn’t killed those people. Mother simply hadn’t known how to heal them. It was something that she had never seen before. The Raiders just brought an illness from their land, over to Norcliffe. Mother wasn’t a witch. Neither was Evelyn. Or Ryia. Ryia, Evelyn. Evelyn, Ryia. I don’t know anymore!

She rested her head on the cold stones and closed her eyes. She could die. She was innocent. They had to believe her. She deserved a fair trial. They’ll still just kill me. she placed her head in her hands. Please, help me. Send someone to help me, Father. Please. I don’t want to die.

She stood up to look out her window with criss-crossing bars, preventing her escape. Even if there were no bars, she couldn’t fit through the small opening. She looked down at the bottom of the cell, wondering if she could dig her way out.

The stones went way down under the packed dirt, making it near impossible for her to escape the cell.

She slumped against the cold wall once more, holding her arms to her body, trying to retain at least a fraction of her body heat.

At least there isn’t anyone else sharing my cell. she mused. And I haven’t come across any rats so far. And they haven’t beat me. And hopefully won’t. Maybe if I plead enough, they’ll just chop my head off and make my death less painful than burning. Maybe maybe maybe.

She yawned.

Before Ryia realized it, it was morning and the sun was shining through her cell. “When did I fall asleep?” she rubbed her eyes. Today was the day of her trial. She could surely get through today.

A man walked outside her cell, his keys jingling as he unlocked her cell door. “We’re taking you to the trial room where you’ll be given a chance to defend yourself.” he yanked her to her feet and dragged her out of her cell and down the dim corridor.

They walked for a few minutes before opening another door, revealing brighter room with white walls and keys hanging from different hooks.

“Our little witch is awake, eh?” a man with graying hair was waiting outside the prison doors.

“Mr. Golls!” Ryia’s eyes grew wide. She had known him since she was a little girl.

She tried not to show her disappointment. “I’m not a witch.”

“We’ll see about that.” Mr. Golls looked at her with his beady eyes before taking her arm and leading her out into the sunlight. The warm sun felt good against her pale skin. She hadn’t realized how dark and cold it was in the cell before now.

They walked up some more steps and into another building.

The trial room was already filling in with people.

People eager to see if she would be condemned. People who wanted to gossip about things they didn’t know. People wanting to judge without understanding.

She glanced over the faces of men and women, children even. While glancing over the crowd she thought she saw a familiar face. She looked back quickly to see if her eyes were deceiving her, but the face was already gone.

It couldn’t be. He’s not well enough to be here. she shook her head. She wouldn’t get her hopes up only to have them crushed.

“Come on. Don’t gape all day.” Mr. Golls shoved her into a chair.

“Evelyn Moore,” the judge silenced everyone, “you are charged for sorcery. Can you defend yourself?”

Ryia stayed silent. She could try defending herself all she wanted, but they would never believe her.

“Can you defend yourself?” the judge asked again, more impatiently this time.

Ryia said nothing and looked down at her hands that were folded in her lap. The crowd started to murmur.

“I will ask you one more time!” he roared, irritated by her silence. “Can you defend yourself?”

Gillian wanted to jump out of his seat and put the judge in his place. Ryia flinched when the judge yelled at her. He had no right to be so harsh on her. It took all of his self control to stay put. He couldn’t reveal himself and get caught. Not after all the work he had done.

“She cannot defend herself. Does anyone wish to testify against her?” he scanned the crowd.

A pudgy man stepped up. “I can tell that this here girl is a witch. I once saw her on the edge of town, and she was walking in a circle talking to herself. That night my son was ill.”

He stepped down and a woman replaced him. “I can tell you that she is a sorceress. I was once talking to my friend Miss Lumors, and we overheard her mother and Evelyn talking about spells, and I heard them talking about how to make people die.” the woman said in a high pitched voice.

Gillian wanted to slap both the man and the woman silly. They were lying. They had to be.

“Can you deny that?” the judge looked down his nose at Ryia.

She stayed silent.

“I pronounce her guilty.” the judge had a pompous look on his face as he banged his wooden mallet against his stand. “She will receive the death penalty and will be burned at the stake.”

“Please judge,” Ryia’s eyes sparked as she spoke up, “can’t you just behead me?”

The judge pretended to consider it for a moment before scowling. “No. Witches must be burned at the stake. If they’re beheaded, their evil ways will spread to the rest of the village. Burning is the only way to purge this evil.”

That’s ridiculous! Gillian wanted to strangle the judge. Burning her or beheading her, it’s all the same!

Ryia looked forlorn and bit her lip to keep from crying in front of everyone.

“Her burning will be tomorrow in the town square!” the judge addressed the crowd.

At least that’s something in my favor. Gillian thought sullenly.

The crowd cheered and Ryia got taken out of her chair and through the doors of the trial room.

Gillian though he could see tears falling down her face. He glared. The judge would get what was coming to him. Yes sir, that was the most unjust judge he had ever seen, and he would be taken down a notch or two.

Ryia sniffled. They would be burning her tomorrow. It would be a very painful death. At least you’ll be warm. she thought bitterly.

“Stop your sniffling.” the guard poked her back with his sword.

Ryia pursed her lips together and tried to keep her tears from falling and her nose from dripping.

The guard opened the door to her cell and pushed her inside.

When he was gone, Ryia broke down into tears. She didn’t want to die. She wanted to be back with her mother. With Gillian. She never even got to say goodbye to GIllian.

The thoughts made her cry all the harder. I’m not strong enough to do this. I don’t want to burn. Please Great Father, please help me!

The judge tied his robe around his portly self and lit a candle. He thought he heard a noise outside his window.

He replaced his wig and made his way over to the window.

A dark figure was framed in his windowsill and as the candle went out and he felt cold steel being held to his throat.

His candle fell to the floor and he stood stalk still.

“I could kill you right now if I wanted to.” the voice whispered into his ear. “But that wouldn’t be right,” the voice laughed, although the laugh was one of hatred, “you know nothing of doing the right thing. I should just kill you. But instead I’ll show mercy, something you probably don’t know about, I’ll let you off with a warning. You know that Evelyn possesses just as much sorcery as you. She is innocent. But be warned. If you make another unjust accusation again, I will come after you, and I will not hesitate to kill you.” the figure stopped talking, as if thinking. “Understand?”

The judge started to nod, the metal pricking his skin. “Yes.” he swallowed nervously. “I understand.”

The figure slid the knife out from his throat. He felt something hard hit his head. Then everything went black.

“Chubby weak judge. Couldn’t even withstand the butt of the knife.” the figure muttered before hopping out the window and back into the night.