The Diablon Series

Lilitha stayed curled up in a corner of the room beside Clara, who was gripping her knee in a show of support.

“You don’t think I’m a witch, do you?” Lilitha said, looking beseechingly into Clara’s eyes.

“Of course not. I know who you are.” Her friend frowned at the other occupants of their cell, who were doing their best to keep as far away from Lilitha as they could.

It was clear Sir Mandalay had been talking about their private encounter. What he’d seen. What he’d assumed.

All the Champions seemed to know, and now it was spreading into the cells of the prisoners. Whispers. Rumours. And now, he was blaming these so-called powers for her “queer” ability to defeat him.

Her ability to overcome a Champion by stabbing him in the eye, or somehow managing to survive in the dark forest when nobody else could.

This skinny, weedy nobody waif that not even her father cared about.

Who was she? What was she? And that thing on her backside…

“It’s just a scar,” Lilitha had told Clara when she’d asked about it. “I don’t remember how it happened or when it happened. Probably happened when I was a baby.”

It was only partly a lie. She really had no idea where it had come from, but it was certainly much more than a scar. Or a birthmark. Or some innocuous thing. But Clara didn’t need to know that.

There was one good thing that came out of all this—the Champions left them alone. Too scared to incur the wrath of the witch. No hassling because they were women.

Always making sure they were fed and watered and kept warm. They didn’t even speak their threats through the door like they did with the male prisoners.

Though the two friends did overhear things: the quiet murmurings between the sentries, the mocking whispers through the doors of the men.

Wild animals. Dark magic. Demons and devils.

Monsters.

“They say the Devil himself walks those woods,” hissed a Champion through the door of the cell next to theirs. “Stealing souls from sinners just like you.”

“They eat you too,” spoke another. “They suck down your blood and spit out your bones. I’ve seen it. I’ve seen what’s left behind.”

“And then there are the spirits. They pass between the trees like a dark mist and when they pass through you, they suck out your insides until you’re nothing but husks.”

“It’s not real. They’re just frightening us,” Clara told Lilitha quietly, though her hand was gripping Lilitha’s hand a little too tightly.

“Yeah,” Lilitha croaked, thinking back to that rotting head—she couldn’t forget it. It was burned in her mind. It woke her up at night.

Even now, it made her shiver. She hadn’t told Clara about it—and she wouldn’t.

It was against God’s law to kill a man. Even sinners. So the Champions were going to take their worst prisoners deep into the dark forest where all manner of evil would do the deed for them.

She’d never thought it would be her turn. She wasn’t a sinner. She’d always tried to be good. But now they thought she was a witch.

“I’m not a witch,” she murmured, though she chewed on her lip.

“I can’t believe you were in there. In the dark forest,” Clara said.

“I was only at the edge.”

“Still…” Clara couldn’t look at her.

“I’m not a witch, Clara.”

Clara nodded, though she kept her eyes averted. A hard lump swelled in Lilitha’s throat.

Five days. Five whole days they were kept locked up. At least Mandalay hadn’t returned, but it was small comfort with what lay ahead. Lilitha folded her trembling hands into her lap.

“Maybe they won’t take us,” Clara said for the twentieth time. “Maybe…maybe we’re two of the good ones. Maybe they’ll just keep us here a little longer and then set us free with a warning.”

“They think I’m a witch, Clara.”

She nodded dully. “And I assaulted a Champion.”

Lilitha turned her head away so she could hide her tears. “It wasn’t much of a life anyway, was it? Maybe…maybe it’s a blessing.”

“But what about the Devil? What about our souls?”

Lilitha was unable to answer.

On the fifth day, the Champions were quick and brutal as they dragged them out of the cell—the two girls and ten other prisoners. All male.

Most looked the way Lilitha felt, white and shivery, their eyes sunk deep into their heads.

The Champions didn’t stop with their whispered threats, hissing in their ears, though they gave Clara and Lilitha a wide berth.

Lilitha seized Clara’s hand. “Don’t let go.”

Clara squeezed it.

Then there was Mandalay. He was sitting astride his black stallion, surveying them all as they lined up in the mud outside. Another grim day, the sun peeking through the clouds.

It wasn’t raining, though it was cold and damp. The Champions threw each of them a cloak. Why they bothered, Lilitha didn’t know.

As she pulled on her cloak, she could feel Mandalay’s glare burning into the back of her neck.

“Keep them separated,” he told another Champion gruffly. “I don’t want them together.”

Lilitha jerked up her head as they grabbed Clara and dragged her away further up the line. Lilitha wiped at her streaming eyes. She’d told herself she wouldn’t cry, but the tears wouldn’t stop coming.

She was careful to keep her face lowered so Mandalay wouldn’t see.

“Lock ’em up,” Mandalay ordered his men.

One by one, heavy iron collars were secured around their necks, each prisoner chained to the next. Lilitha gasped at the feel of the icy cold against her skin.

It sat heavily upon her neck bones. She reached up to shift it, the chain rattling between her and a tall man with a bald head beside her. He was trembling. She smelled urine.

Dismounting, Mandalay checked each of them personally, his fingers lingering a little too long upon Lilitha’s throat. His blue eye flashed into hers before moving onto the next prisoner.

Once he was satisfied, he remounted. Several other champions did the same.

“Let’s move off!” Mandalay commanded, waving his arm.

There was a hard yank at her collar, and Lilitha lurched ahead.

And so began her journey into the dark forest.