Taming the Dark Lord - Chapter 44

Chapter 44 – Harvey The Devourer (1)

Amelia fisted the hair strand tightly. Her mind filled with thoughts about the elf.

Did the elf not leave yet?

When the witch disappeared in front of them, it did not take long when she appeared before them once again, battling with the knights at the very edge of the forest. Calculating the minutes that had gone by when the witch left to the time when she emerged again, Amelia figured that the witch might have come across the spot where she left Alfonso.

It was a rough estimate, but Amelia was almost certain.

Didn’t he always want to know more about his past? What was he still doing there?

Is it possible that the elf couldn’t bear leaving me?

Amelia was moved for second before she was snapped back to her senses. She shrugged the ridiculous thought out of her head. Given his unpleasant character, she guessed that he must be lingering around to prepare for an ambush, planning to attack her when she least expected it.

“Amelia?” Rita called out, nudging her arm. “What are you thinking so deeply about?”

“Nothing.” Amelia shook her head. She closed her palm to hide the hair strand from view, and discreetly looked around the room to see if there are any traces left.

Debra on the other hand, ordered the knights to prepare the brazier, and told them to bring out the device they use solely for torture. The knights quickly abided, tossing coals over the hearth as the fires hissed and crackled, casting the device a daunting glow.

“Where is your accomplice? Where did you take the possessed woman?” Debra asked, leaning close as she harshly pulled the witch’s hair, making her look up. “Did you kill the bishop?”

The witch blinked slowly. Her pupils seemed to be looking elsewhere, and a weird, grumbling noise emanated from her throat.

Debra threw questions after questions, and when she realized that the witch was not going to answer her, she threw the knight standing nearby a sharp look, prompting him to retrieve something behind him.

A strong smell of burnt flesh wafted through the air, hissing out a crisp sound as the coals were set aflame.

Debra gripped the witch’s jaw tightly. “Are you going to answer me now? Or are you still being stubborn?” She asked icily.

There was an intent to kill behind Debra’s penetrating, murderous gaze. She crowded the witch’s space, giving her no room to breathe. She no longer bore the holiness that was expected of a Saint, her demeanor cold and unforgiving as she lifted her palm towards the witch, about to strike her ruthlessly.

“Debra, would you please calm down?” Amelia said, abruptly pushing Debra’s hand away. “Can’t you see that she’s not in her right mind? Badgering her with questions won’t help.”

The witch hung her head to her chest. She was deep in her own head that she didn’t pay no heed to the burning iron glowing in front of her. Her eyes were fearless yet unseeing at the same time, and it was a pretty disturbing sight.

Debra spared the witch one last glance before closing her fist and dropping it to the side. Admittedly, she really was anxious of the witch standing before her, since this was her last chance to redeem herself. She wanted to make her speak, to come clean about where she hid the possessed woman.

It didn’t help that it was Amelia who caught the witch that had killed the bishop; and if she was still fruitless before she reported back to the pope, all glory and honor would surely be bestowed to Amelia, again.

Debra’s chances are slipping right through her fingers no matter how hard she tried to grasp it, and she needs to do something about it, and fast. She was growing distressed by the second, seeing how Amelia effortlessly maintained her position as Chief Saint.

The atmosphere inside the execution room became increasingly more rigid and intense, and the only thing that could be heard was the minute sounds of a knight’s footsteps descending from the staircase.

He was holding a roll of parchment in his hand as he strolled past Debra. “Chief, someone reported that they had seen this witch bring two girls to the forest quite recently. One with brown hair, and another with red hair. And it is said that these two girls were injured.” The knight said, handing the paper to Amelia.

Amelia unscrolled the parchment and read the contents carefully. All the details were scribbled; from who exactly saw it down to the time and location where the girls were brought were all written on paper. This was not something that could be easily forged or made up.

Amelia hid her dismay as she handed the sheepskin scroll to Debra, who was peering at it the whole time. “This one’s yours. The place where she brought the two wounded girls shouldn’t be that far. Do bring someone to aid you with your search. There’s no need to waste time on her.” Amelia said, referring to the trapped witch.

Debra’s eyes lingered at the parchment, and a smile slowly broke on her face. She quickly dropped the smoking iron and briskly walked up the stairs two at a time.

Everything happened so quickly that Rita wasn’t able to put a stop to it. Her mouth opened in surprise, her brows furrowed as she stomped her feet in unmistakable anger. “Are you that stupid? How could you give it to her just like that? I’m so mad at you right now!”

Rita bunched her skirts together and chased after Debra. Amelia just shrugged at the saint’s outburst, and signaled the knight nearby to keep a watchful eye over the two saints. And with their exit, the torture room fell into a steady silence.

Amelia picked the smoking iron from the ground, and inspected the witch’s wound closely. Debra seemed to have been carried away with her interrogation a few moments prior; the wound was bright red, and the tissue surrounding it was a sickly yellow, which was covered with pus oozing out of the gaping wound.

Even with the prisoners’ bloody predicament, the cult doesn’t spare them the time to clean their wounds up, letting their wounds rot into infection. And looking at the witch’s gashed skin, it was only a matter of days until it will grow even more inflamed.

Amelia placed her palm against the wound. Her white fingertips were soft compared to the witch’s rough skin, glowing as she used her magic to stitch the wounds close.

When the skin was already patched up, the witch looked at Amelia and asked hoarsely, “Was that you?” The voice sounded louder than it was in the silence of the room.

Amelia raised her eyebrows. “What are you talking about? I don’t understand.”

“So it really was you.” The witch said with a finality to her voice. “You were the one who save the two children. It seems like there are still a few good people in the sea of sinners after all.”

The witch looked as if she was still in a trance, like she was somewhere far away, but her words were sharp and resolute. After voicing out her thoughts, she muttered a few indecipherable words Amelia couldn’t understand, and fell unconscious once again.

Amelia tilted her head in confusion. She removed the four hidden nail shackles chained on the witch’s wrists, and left the ropes tied. She then turned around and left the room.