Witch Saintess

Chapter 6: Human Blood sports

The next week was painful. I saw Silvera clinging to Leon's side, and I had to intervene for her twice. Leon was a witch-hunter, and we were saintess candidates, she should stay away.

But, eventually the witch-hunter ceremony arrived, and as saintess candidates, I, Liora, and Silvera had to oversee, since the three priests were out, overlooking some winery that was having problems.

I finished pinning the ornament in my hair, a pretty wooden pin. Apparently, the church could no longer afford to buy a new gold one. The veil covering my head was old, from saintesses before, the loose ends of gold thread inside prickling against my scalp. The light, thin white satin robe slithered over my skin like snake scales, and I practiced the elegant steps I'd need to keep up the illusion.

I heard something drop in Silvera's room. I opened her door, and saw her struggling with a hairpin. I wordlessly fixed it for her, looking at her beautiful eyes, admiring them. She really had the potential to be a saintess. I'd keep her close after I took that role.

"Are you ready?" I asked, fixing her braid under her veil.

"Yes, Liora." She said.

"Are you alright?" I  asked her, touching the side of her face gently.

"Yes, um, just tired." She murmured, closing her eyes at my touch. I smile as her soft hair brushes the back of my hand.

"Let's go then." I patted her shoulder, and she followed me out.

The witch-hunter trials are today, as Leon was the first to arrive, but the other two are very strong too. It's the entertainment of the year for the villagers, and it will be held in the village square. I'm mostly glad the saintess candidates have designated seating, so I don't have to stand the whole time.

"Who are the others?" Silvera asks.

"We'll find out." I tell her.

"Don't you know anything about them?" She begs.

"No, and we only know Leon because he was born here, Silver, but we'll get to know the others if they win." I reassure her.

Outside the church compound today is beautiful. Clusters of wildflowers border the path in boxes, something I told the children to do, because otherwise they become menaces. We need somewhere to put them, before they're old enough for farm work.

I walk to out podium, raised slightly, and covered with a white, yet patch-work canvass. The square has been fenced off with wood barricades, into a medium sized square the people press in on.

The way the new head witch-hunter will be decided is a fight. They all executed a few witches, but to me, it's not enough. All witches must be gone, and after today, I will show my first decree, which will boost my popularity, and lead the way for my reign as saintess, where I'll rid the world of witches.

We don't have to announce this time, thank goodness, but it will at least be entertaining to watch. I take my seat, and watch the beginning, which is blood shedding for good luck, first a bloodletting from some devoted peasant, then bear-baiting, to warm up the crowd, and show the strenght of the strong or mankind over nature.

I've never had much of a fondness for blood sports, those are for the peasantry, and it's a waste of a perfectly good set of dogs and a bear that's been mauled beyond selling it's pelt. Silvera flinches, as they chain the angry bear in place.

Silvera, despite being from a poor family is an animal lover. She sits outside, surrounded by butterflies, and I know about the family of stray cats she secretly feeds, and I also know about how she rushes to the stables whenever someone arrives, to tend to their horse.

The problem is her shyness, and her lack of ambition. She runs away once she's tended to the horse, refusing to take credit, refusing to step into the limelight. She has compassion, and pretty eyes, and a quiet composure. But despite being the true saintess between us, she lacks any of the ruthlessness and charisma required to lead the city. A good mascot for sure, but not a saintess.

That's the real issue with Silvera. But on the good side, her loyalty and naivete make her an excellent person to keep close, someone who cannot and will not see my plans, and will stay close with me no matter what.

I watch as the dogs grab mouthfuls of the bear. The pulsing yells of the crowd surge through the ground, under my feet, and into my bones. Humans really are barbaric. I hear Silvera whimper, and I internally sigh, reaching out a foot for hers, tapping it against the toe of her shoe reassuringly.

I feel her relax just a little bit, as the bear throws off one of the dogs. I let my mind wander away, keeping an ear out on Silvera's shuddering heartbeat.

It's done sooner than the crowd would have liked, and I can almost feel the tingle of expectation in the air, and I see the candidates for witch-hunter.

First, some young man covered in sunburns, with long, tangled blonde hair, and a green tunic, showing the single scar running down his left arm. Sweat drips down his face, and his chest shakes. He is not from Spain, he looks English and I'm surprised he was even let into the witch-hunting division, but the standards are lower, for now.

Second, a tanned, well built boy with black hair, and a brown tunic, he's mostly scars, and looks determinedly up at our podium. Most likely very religious. I make a mental note to stay away. I'm uneasy by his appearance though, he has been in many fights. If he wins, he will be strong, and at my command, but he might be able to sense that I'm a witch. I doubt that he actually can, but I'm still uneasy.

And finally, Leon, his longer hair tied up behind his head, the blonde streak visible. He's dressed in a red tunic, sticking to him. A look of pure determination brews in his eyes, and a shiny blade, made of some faraway metal glints in his grip.

"There will be three matches between two people. The most victories wins. A kill will be counted as a win. We will begin with Alonzo and Tanner." Someone yells.

Leon steps up, and the blonde boy flinches at the sound of his name, but he steps up anyway, looking around nervously. They step into the blockade, Leon vaulting in with an unreadable expression on his face, and a shield clutched in his other hand.

Tanner grabs the round shield and a short sword, taking a breath as he paces a path in the dust, eyeing up Leon. Silvera and I tense up with the crowd, as we wait for the fight to start.