Burned at the Stake: A Witch's Tale, #1

By Kevin Quintin

Living as a healer in a small village, Ailise didn't seem to be in much danger, until the witch hunters came and she was sentenced to be burned at the stake. While she thought this was the end, she awoke soon after, practically unscathed. With the help of a nobleman's son called Ilar she is trying to find out what she is, and what she can do.

 

The two unlikely friends will travel the kingdom of Xetoirce to find others like Ailise, which doesn't seem to be an easy task, especially with witch hunters being everywhere. Will Ailise and Ilar find the people they are looking for, and do these people hold all the answers? Can they stop the witch hunters from succeeding? To stop them from killing everyone they think are witches?

 

Embark on a journey of friendship, betrayal and a search for identity, and see if the witches you meet are really the witches you expect.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bright Arrow Publishing
• Release date: Jun 14, 2020
• ISBN: 9789083025001

Book preview

Kevin Quintin

Burned at the Stake

A Witch's Tale

First published by Red Arrow Publishing 2019

Copyright © 2019 by Kevin Quintin

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

By reading this work, you have sworn that you have obtained this copy legally. If this is the case, the witches will be on your side. If this is not the case, the curse hidden inside these pages will activate and you will be visited by the witches of old.

First edition

ISBN: 9789083025001

Cover art by Henriette Boldt

This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy

Find out more at reedsy.com

For my grandfather Joop who encouraged me to continue writing,

and my father Paul, who has read everything I came up with.

Contents

Prologue

I. FINDING A SPARK

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

II. SEARCHING FOR OTHERS

21

22

23

24

25

26

27

28

29

30

31

32

33

34

35

36

37

38

39

40

Acknowledgements

Prologue

All of these villages looked alike. The same could be said for the people who lived in them. Most of them were afraid. The things they were afraid of were mostly unknown, like witches in particular. On the way to the village he saw the crosses, but the piles of wood were the only thing that got his attention. None of the piles were lit, but they were there, which only meant one thing: they were there to be used, likely soon.

He wasn’t even sure why he was there. The big city seemed to suit him more than all the affairs of the countryside. His father, however, thought it good for him to go. He should learn something, although he had no idea what that was exactly.

So far he learned that people were narrow minded. They saw witches everywhere. Only thinking about those burnings made him gag, but he pushed himself to go on to the next village to exchange niceties, and hopefully return to a more prosperous town one day.

The scent of wood smoke suddenly hit him, immediately followed by high-pitched screaming. He knew he shouldn’t, but he followed the smell and the screams. When he was in the square of the small town he saw what was happening. A young woman was bound to a wooden post, and the pile of wood in front of her already produced some high flames.

Go back to hell, witch, an old man screamed. No doubt it was a priest, or someone who was close with his faith.

Other reactions erupted around the burning pyre, and none of them positive. This was not his first witch burning, but mostly there were people pleading that the woman was an innocent. That she didn’t mean to be blasphemous or that she was capable of change. Now there was nothing, only angry shouting and the crackling flames.

Burnings could go on for hours, but because the woman probably lost consciousness or was already dead, the screams stopped. This was reason for most to leave. Soon he was the only one in the square. He looked around him. No one to mourn this girl. He shook his head. It was better if he pushed on. A town like this was not a good place to stay. He did know, however, that the girl’s face would appear in his dreams, for he knew almost for certain that she had looked at him.

I

Finding a Spark

1

It was dark. She shouldn’t be here. If the village elder would see her, she would be punished. She was certain of that. She blinked and looked toward the sky. It was dark.

She grabbed her head. It felt as if a horse had run over it. Like a newborn calf she began to stand, and it took her a minute to realize that she was surrounded by smoldering charcoal, and was covered in ashes. Her memories flooded back to her.

They had bound her to a wooden post. They had collected a large amount of wood and they had lit this. And for what? she thought. Just because I wanted to speak up? Have a voice in this forsaken village?

She took a few steps, leaving the pile of blackened wood and ashes behind. Just for a moment she tried to collect herself. Tears were rimming her eyes, but she pushed them back. These people were not worth to shed a single tear over.

The village was quiet, like she remembered it. What she wanted more than anything else was to go back to her house. She almost did, but the reflection of herself in a puddle on the muddy road made her stop. It was clear that she couldn’t stay here.

Sudden sounds made her jump, and she decided not to investigate, but just to run. She ran until her legs gave out, and fell to her knees on the riverbank.

Should I cross, she thought. Ordo I need to follow the road?

Her reflection seemed to say that she needed a bath. She knew she could swim, but winter was nearing and she knew for certain that the water was freezing. It could kill her. But so could the flames. She shook her head. She had no idea how she was still alive.

They had screamed at her that she was a witch, and that she should have believed in their true god. This ‘god’ seemed to have taken everyone from her. She needed to do things on her own, and she always refused help. Because she was grieving at first people let her be, but when she started to work and started asking questions it seemed the perfect opportunity to get rid of her.

Could it be possible? she asked herself, walking down the dirt road along the river, with only the light of the moon and stars to show her the way. Could I actually be a witch? Is there such a thing?

What she knew with certainty was that witches could withstand fire. They did not burn. Her clothes might be in tatters, and her face and body were smeared with ashes, but otherwise there was not a single scratch on her.

Maybe I should try to drown myself, she thought. Witches are supposed to float, aren’t they? She halted, and looked at the river, which was big enough to drown in, but not strong enough to let the currents take her.

The water felt cold when she put her foot in it. She shivered. A tear rolled down her cheek. Slowly she started walking, not sure what to expect. She got colder, and decided that she should fully submerge herself in the water. She wanted to know for sure, and she closed her eyes.

There was a pressure on her chest. She wanted to breathe, but she knew she could not. There didn’t seem to be enough time, but when she wanted to welcome the water in she felt herself going up. She didn’t know what happened, and gasped for air when she emerged from the water. She seemed to move on her own, and before she knew it she was on the riverbank. She was wet and she shivered because of the cold night, and finally she recognized an equally damp person next to her.

She scrambled to her feet. Her eyes were wide. She didn’t know this person; this man. He only seemed to shake his head.

Are you completely mad? he asked her. Why would you go for a swim this late? You could have drowned if I hadn’t spotted you.

"How did you even spot me? she asked, slowly backing away towards the road. Have you been following me? What do you want?"

Again the man shook his head, and rose from the damp grass. You could just thank me for saving your life, you know. I don’t seek a reward, but just a kind word would be enough, or was it your intention to..?

Slowly she shook her head. She felt tears pricking in her eyes, but she didn’t want to cry. She wanted to be strong; she wanted to feel strong.

It’s just been a very strange day, she managed to say. Maybe it’s better if I go my own way. I don’t want to bother anyone.

You’re soaked. I know because I am. Just come with me. I’ve built a small fire. I might even have something to eat. You look a bit… He seemed to stop himself, but she knew what he meant. She felt hungry; as if she hadn’t eaten in days.

She went with the man willingly, and she could’ve sworn that she had seen his face somewhere before, but couldn’t quite place it.

* * *

Both of them made it to the small camp, where the small cook fire was reduced to smoldering embers. Fortunately he had collected enough dry fire wood to keep it going again, but in the state they were in they couldn’t wait very long on the warmth that the fire could provide.

When the fire was finally big enough to dry their soaked clothes, he actually looked at girl he saved in the eyes for the first time. He had expected a helpless look on her face, and he’d expected her to be younger. She was neither of those things, but something told him that she was eager to leave this place as soon as possible.

For a long time they didn’t speak. The simple reason for that was that they didn’t know each other, and both of them felt embarrassed. But a bigger part of it was the fact that he knew her face. When he realized from where he shook his head.

What is it? she asked. Why are you staring at me?

It was you on that pyre, wasn’t it? he said. I know it shouldn’t be possible, but… he pointed at her, …yet here you are. How?

I don’t know, she answered. She plucked at her tattered clothes, trying to straighten them. She attempted to stand up, but seemed too weak.

Just tell me your name then, he said with a smile. He decided to sit next to her. I’m Ilar. Trust me, you don’t need to fear me.

That’s what I thought about the villagers, she said with a sigh. "And here I am. They tried to burn me alive!"

It’s despicable, Ilar answered. But you survived.

That just makes things worse. She buried her head in her hands. "That just means that they were right about me. I am a witch…"

Ilar didn’t know how to react to that. If he was honest, he didn’t know any witches. He thought they were make-believe, just like demons, ghosts and other stuff from nightmares. But here he sat, with a girl who had survived a burning, and that was not something that happened to other girls and women who were accused of being witches.

Why don’t you run away from me? the girl asked after a long moment of silence. Are you not scared that I will curse you or something?

Ilar laughed. "Even if you could, I doubt you would. You look innocent enough. And besides, a witch who would know her powers wouldn’t just try to drown herself."

The girl sighed, but she managed a small smile. Ailise, she said.

What? Ilar asked, taken aback.

My name, she said with a smile. My name is Ailise.

Pretty, Ilar answered.

Ailise shrugged. I don’t really care for it, but the name is the only thing I have.

Ilar didn’t know what to say to that. He decided it better to just change the conversation.

Far away from here, Ailise answered. As fast as possible.

Ilar agreed with that. He took some bread out of his travel sack and gave this to Ailise. She seemed grateful, while Ilar knew it was not much. They agreed to depart first thing in the morning. Ilar hoped that their clothes were fully dried by then.

2

Ailise wasn’t sure what to think of Ilar. He looked slightly older than she was, and he was not unattractive, but he was still a man. He had been kind to her, like most men in her village had been. It hadn’t stopped them from trying to burn her alive because she refused to marry.

Before her mother had passed from a fever some years ago, Ailise had to promise her that she would only choose her own happiness. What her mother had exactly meant by that she did not know, but she knew with certainty that marrying someone for the simple fact of just not being alone was not good enough. That’s why she tried to find her skill set, and she realized that mixing herbs to heal were among them.

Months before people started to call her witch, Ailise knew that she should be careful. That was why she tried other things, and helped only the people with minor injuries. Wounds healed with ease because of her, and soon she could buy prettier things. They weren’t jewels, or anything extravagant, but still, the village elder had known. They were likely jealous, before the marriage proposals came along.

None were in love with her, although they all claimed to be. The only thing they wanted was to share in her success. They heralded her as a godsend, but when she refused they turned on her. They spoke of magic, while Ailise had no idea how to dabble in magic of any kind. Now she actually appeared to be a witch, and she had no idea what to do with that information.

Do you want to keep to this road? Ilar asked her. He seemed to fasten his pace, just to keep up with her. I don’t know what they would say if… uhm… would see you like that. He pointed at her tattered dress.

She sighed. She knew he was right. I could wait outside the next town, far out of sight of people, and you could get me some clothes.

Ilar shook his head. You should know your clothes, he answered. I don’t know how to pick out a dress, or breeches for you for that matter. And what if you don’t like the color or the fabric of a travel cloak I’d buy for you?

What we need then is a story, he said with a coy smile. "You could be my wife, and we were attacked by bandits. We tried to resist, but they wanted… they wanted to have their way with you." He didn’t look at her while he said that.

We can’t tell the truth, Ailise said. They would likely burn us both. But I don’t know, Ilar. I’m not sure if I could keep taking your kind offers. I have nothing to give.

My father insisted that I needed to go to the countryside to learn about people. You lived there. And you don’t have anything anymore, or you know, we could go back to your home, and see if we can take some food and clothes.

Ailise shook her head. She felt a surge of panic coming over her. There was no way that she could ever go back there, although a part of her needed revenge. People will stare, and they will judge. Can you promise me that I don’t turn up on another pyre?

I have no weapons, nor any knowledge of combat, I’m afraid, but I will try my best to keep you safe, Ailise. You deserve more.

No man had ever said something like that to her. She had no idea how to react. She didn’t need to, because in the distance there loomed a town, a little bigger than hers, and there were riders nearing them. Their uniforms were black and blue, and the sigil they wore was that of a white and blue feather. They were soldiers that were meant to protect everyone.

Halt! one of the riders called to them. He stepped down from his horse and let the other three riders behind him where they were. State your business!

We’re just here for supplies, Ilar answered truthfully. We don’t have much coin, as you can see we were robbed by bandits.

The soldier looked at Ailise. He had a short salt and pepper beard, and his hair was about the same length. He also had one hand on the hilt of his sword, while the riders further back seemed to have bows, and could react if something would happen to their leader in front of them.

We have no weapons, nor do we intend any harm, Ailise decided to say. Please, I am shamed enough as it is.

I’m sorry, m’lady, said the soldier. He whistled a few short notes. Allow us to escort you to an inn where your needs will be met. These bandits keep terrorizing these roads. We don’t have enough men to keep them at bay.

This was not something that Ailise had expected. The riders went out their way for her wellbeing, and they even seemed to apologize. Within minutes they were at an inn, where they could stay in a more secluded room, and the soldiers told them their clothes, meals and stay would be taken care of. However, they did mention that they had to be gone by tomorrow.

Ailise wanted to get out of her clothes, that were rather rags than anything anyone would deliberately wear, but she was not alone. Ilar was in the room with her, and it seemed that he was taken aback by the hospitality as well.

So it’s really as bad as they said, said an older man that came in. He clicked his tongue and looked Ailise up and down. Let’s get you out of these rags, shall we?

She was hesitant, by thankfully Ilar turned around and the older man came prepared with a wooden screen where she could stand behind. When she was behind the screen she disrobed, and she felt a shiver going down her spine. She was not comfortable here. Before she knew it, however, there were hanging a few dresses, shirts and breeches over the screen.

There was so much to choose from, and she simply didn’t know what would suit her best. One of the dresses reminded her of the nightgown she had been wearing on top of the pile, and she decided that she rather wear something else. Instead she took the black breeches, and a white linen shirt. It felt good to finally have something warm and comfortable against her skin.

She stepped from behind the screen, and the man looked at her intently. I’m not sure if that’s right, he said, shaking his head. Lady, you might need something more colorful. You don’t mind that, do you?

Ailise slowly shook her head, and the man handed her a red and a green shirt. She raised an eyebrow, but they man just said to trust her. The only thing that she could do was to change. Fortunately she could keep the breeches. She decided to go with the green shirt; she thought red wasn’t really her color.

Better, isn’t it? the man asked when she reemerged. You seem to shine already.

She caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror. It did look better than she’d thought, but still, she felt a little wrong.

Now you just need a cloak, don’t you think? How do like this?

The man handed her a soft, woolen cloak, which was a deep blue. She was surprised at how much she liked it. She smiled, and thanked the man.

Ilar was just sitting on a stool, now watching her. Before Ailise could say anything, the old man walked in his direction and handed him a dark red shirt and a forest green cloak. Ilar seemed to decline it, but the old man just simply walked away, giving them some time alone.

"They do really suit you, Ilar said with a smile. The soldiers said that there should be some food left for us in the common room."

Honestly, I think I just need a bath, said Ailise with a sigh. Do you think they would let us eat in here? She pointed around her.

I’ll ask them for hot water, Ilar said, and he left Ailise alone in the big room. She was there only with her thoughts, and she had no idea what to do next.

* * *

Ilar entered the common room, which was almost completely deserted. On a small wooden table there stood two steaming bowls, and two jugs which most likely contained some sort of ale. Ilar sat down at the table.

He couldn’t quite believe that he was traveling with an actual witch. She seemed harmless, but still, there would be people after her if they knew what she truly was. Ailise didn’t deserve such a fate, but there was not much he could do about it. He was not a lord or an earl of some sort. He was just an heir.

Something wrong with the food, dear? a serving girl asked. She seemed to come out of nowhere.

No, I don’t know, actually, answered Ilar, feeling a bit embarrassed. But do you think it is possible to send some hot water for a bath to… to my room?

For your wife, sir? she asked with a honey sweet smile. Normally he would have commented on that smile, but because of Ailise he could not do this; not now anyhow. She was his wife apparently.

Ilar nodded, and asked if the food could be taken to the room as well. I’m afraid she just needs some time, after all that has happened.

The girl didn’t ask, but did what Ilar requested, leaving him utterly alone.

He looked around him, and slowly started eating. It was not the best stew he ever had, but he welcomed the taste after all the stale bread and moldy cheese. When he was finished the serving girl brought him some more ale, and said that he should probably check on his wife. Ilar smiled and nodded, but he just needed some time to himself.

When he finally got up, a few men entered. They looked about as filthy as Ailise has looked when Ilar had first seen her standing on the river bank. Ilar considered that these men might be witches as well, but he thought it a ridiculous idea.

All these witches lately, one of the men boasted. They seemed to be everywhere. How do they keep multiplying?

Maybe you don’t kill ‘m right, another suggested.

Shut your holes, the last said plainly. We don’t need any attention now, do we?

Ilar caught himself looking, forced to smile at the men, and took his leave after taking the jugs of ale with him. He knocked on the door before entering.

Ailise opened, looking refreshed. There was even some color on her cheeks, likely from the hot bath she took. Why’d you knock? she asked before closing the door. It’s your room as much as it is mine.

Just in case you were still in the bath, Ilar answered. He set the jugs of ale down on the small table near the bed. I think we cannot stay here long.

I wasn’t planning to, but why, if I may ask?

I overheard some men over talking. They spoke of witches. If they know who you are. If they know what you can do…

Ailise shook her head. Where can we go to be safe?

"I’m not even sure if there is a place where it is safe for… you know…"

Ailise rolled her eyes at him. "You know you can just say I’m a witch, right? I don’t think we should be ashamed of that fact."

I’m not saying that I feel ashamed, or that you should feel that way. What I’m saying is that there aren’t a lot of people as open minded as I am.

She sat down on the bed, and Ilar sat next to her. She seemed to think, or to stare intensely at a wall that didn’t seem to look that interesting.

Maybe we should ride with those soldiers, Ailise suggested. "They were friendly. Hells, they were the reason that we’re here in the first place, and that that, and she pointed to the rags she was wearing earlier, can finally be shed."

I’m not sure if we should stick with soldiers, Ilar said. We should leave tomorrow, at first light. I don’t want to be followed.

We cannot arouse suspicion, Ailise countered. These people have been nothing but kind to us. If I can, I would want to repay them. Do you understand?

Of course I do, but don’t you realize the danger that we’re in?

"So it’s we now? Are you sure you want to keep traveling with me?"

When I saw you on that pyre, I thought that you didn’t deserve to be burned. I still don’t. But I think you have to trust me.

"And I’m telling you to trust me, Ailise said, her face flushing. We shouldn’t leave just yet. I need my rest, you should know that."

Ilar could argue all night with her, but he knew that he shouldn’t. Because of Ailise he got a new cloak and some new clothes. He didn’t even have to pay for the expenses. It was at all possible that meeting a witch had a silver lining. He just wasn’t sure what that was yet.

3

Ailise woke up far later than she planned to, and from her bed she saw Ilar’s sleeping form, laying close to the door. He was still fast asleep, and it was not Ailise’s intention to wake him up; not when he wanted to rouse as fast as possible to leave this town behind.

She wasn’t sure why she liked being in this inn. Maybe because the serving girl was nice to her, of maybe because for the first time in years she felt safe. Ilar had said that she should be carefully, and that’s why she decided to act normally. And if that meant that Ilar was her husband, then that was the part that she would play.

Breakfast was already set on the table when she arrived in the common room, and she received a warm smile from the blonde serving girl, who put down mugs containing water. Ailise was grateful for this, and she had to admit that she felt better than she did yesterday, and especially the day before.

She was so in thought, that she didn’t even notice Ilar’s arrival until he touched her hand. Ailise jumped, but contained herself. If she would’ve screamed, the serving girl would have asked some questions that Ailise wasn’t ready to answer.

We need to go, Ilar said. It was clear that he had already gathered his belongings. If I had coin for a horse, maybe I would have bought one.

"One? Ailise asked, raising an eyebrow. What about me? You thought it best if I would walk?"

Ilar shook his head. Horses are not easy to come by, especially in towns like these. And they’re not cheap. I would be lucky if it would cost me twenty pieces of silver.

"Or, you know, we could borrow one, Ailise suggested. Maybe from those soldiers. They have enough of them, don’t you think?"

Are you seriously suggesting stealing a horse from an army? Ilar asked, slightly louder than he should have. You know we don’t want to raise suspicion. Something like that could cost us our heads, and you know it.

And how long do you think we are able to walk before someone comes across us and asks us the wrong questions? What would happen then?

Ilar look a sip from his water. Stealing is against the law. I don’t want people to see me as a common criminal.

"Oh no, you’re not any criminal. You’re a criminal riding together with a witch. That would make you immortal, you know."

Ilar sighed. Our heads would be on posters, and there would be people all over this kingdom looking for us. I don’t think that is the way to go, Ailise.

To be honest, Ailise had no idea what the right way even was. Maybe they should be looking for other people like her. Now that she knew that she was a witch, she had to do something with it. A smile formed on her lips. Ilar just shook his head.

* * *

They left as fast as they could, without causing any suspicion. It wasn’t easy, and Ilar was sure that the men from last night were looking at them. The same could be said for the soldiers, who offered to drop them off at the