Tales of Aradia The Last Witch Volume 1

Tales of Aradia the
Last Witch Volume One

Copyright L.A. Jones
2010

Published at
Smashwords

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Written by L.A.
Jones

Edited by Harrison R.
Bradlow

Cover Art by
Kimberly
Mattia

I, L.A. Jones, dedicate
this story to my two best friends in the whole world, Nuby Caceres
Sanchez and Kimberly Anne Mattia, who have always accepted me for
who I am in spite of everything. Although I will never be able to
thank them enough for being the greatest friends I have ever had, I
hope this story will be a start.

LA, thank you for allowing me to be part
of this project. Working on this novel has been a joy and I look
forward to editing future Volumes in the Aradia series. My wife
Amy, you have been, as always, incredibly supportive as I spent so
much time and energy working on this book. My part in Tales of
Aradia I dedicate to these two great women.

++Harrison

Prologue

"We are
innocent!"

The cry echoed in
Rome's ears as he held his face stony still. He stood motionless at
the head of the room and watched as his men executed their gruesome
orders. Victims screamed for mercy before the noose silenced them
forever. For the luckier ones, the drop broke their necks, killing
them instantly. The less fortunate hung by their throats and
flailed their feet, finding only the air for which their lungs
desperately screamed. The rest watched in horror as their loved
ones were murdered, all the while knowing they were next. The
women's blouses were soaking wet from sweat and tears as their sobs
competed with those of the children they tried in vain to protect.
Many were dragged, weak as dolls and with a broken look in their
eyes, to their places of death.

One, however, managed
to break her captor's vise-like hold and raced toward the only
door. Rome noticed her pitiful attempt at escape, of course, and
leisurely headed her off. He grinned as he slammed the double doors
behind him, completely blocking her only, dim hope of escape. Ever
so slowly he turned and strolled toward her, still grinning and
with fangs extended. The woman stopped, frozen by the menace he
exuded. In a room full of evil, she could feel he was the worst of
it all.

As frightened as she
was, she mustered the courage to demand, "Why are you doing this to
us? We have committed no crime!"

Rome scoffed loudly.
"Oh but you have. The gravest of them all: treason.” He circled the
helpless woman as he spoke. “For more than a thousand years we have
remained hidden and kept the humans unaware of our existence, but
you and your kind have betrayed all of the hidden race. The humans
now know about you. How do you suppose that happened,
hmm?”

“I don’t know!” she
cried. “Whoever told them of us, if anyone told them of us, it was
no witch!”

Rome shrugged.
“Regardless, there is only one appropriate response, only one way
to make sure the leak ends here. You and your people know the law.
By mutual decree, we of the hidden race must remain hidden at any
cost. To protect the greater number of us, you must
die.”

“This is not the spirit
of the law,” she muttered. “This is not right.”

“But it is the will of
the Sovereign. You and all of your people are
condemned."

Rome snickered as he
reached out, pulled the woman's neck to his face, and sank his
teeth into her. She moaned in agony, and he in pleasure, as her
lifeblood gushed from the twin wounds down his throat.

"Call it good measure,"
he said with a snort, dropping her limp body with a thud. He had
drunk until he’d had his fill. Under normal circumstances, he would
have shared the vessel’s remainder with his closest men. Today,
though, there was blood in such glorious, lavish, wasteful excess,
that it could be allowed to flow freely.

Every one of his
heightened senses was excited by the scene. He savored the taste
she left in his mouth. He held on to the memory of her hopelessly
writhing against him while he fed. He admired the sight of so many
dangling bodies, with the shrieks and cries forming a sweet melody.
All the while he relished the mingling odors of death and
fear.

One of his soldiers
then suddenly tapped on his shoulder.

Irritated at the
interruption, Rome growled, "What?"

Voice quavering
slightly, the soldier said, "I am sorry sir, but checking the
coven’s records against those we gathered, I have discovered two
appear to be missing."

This detail definitely
aroused Rome's interest.

"Who?" he
snapped.

The soldier made a
conscious effort not to gulp before managing to respond, "The Seer
of the coven and a baby."

“And you have
thoroughly searched the area?”

“Yes, sir.”

One of Rome’s
lieutenants, a slight man by the name of Abdiel, appeared at his
right and said to the soldier, "You have allowed a mere woman,
encumbered by a baby at that, to best you? For that you will be
punished.”

“Yes,” Rome agreed.
“And your recommendation regarding the two missing witches,
Abdiel?”

He shrugged. “If we’ve
already searched and failed to find them, they must be long gone. I
say let them go. They can’t accomplish much with their whole coven
dead.”

Rome whipped around and
slapped his lieutenant hard across the face. The force of the blow
knocked Abdiel to the floor, his lip split and murder in his
eyes.

"For that you will
suffer for their escape as well. Didn't you hear what I told her?"
Rome pointed to the dead woman at his feet. "It's good
measure."

Several other soldiers
overheard the conversation. One, brave and hoping to curry his
commander's favor, stepped forward and offered to find and dispose
of the missing witches.

Rome shook his head
though. "No. I would rather deal with this myself."

It was plodding work,
but finally he found them hiding out in a lonely
cottage.

“Fools,” he cursed
them. Had his pursuit gone any longer, he’d have had to take cover
before daybreak.

Upon reaching the
little dwelling, Rome was greeted with a brilliant flash of white
light. It emanated from the cottage’s windows, beneath and around
its door, and through every crevice of its shoddy construction. It
enveloped the entire structure and was so blinding that Rome nearly
fell completely off his feet.

“Witches,” he
spat.

One swift kick was all
it took for Rome to break the door off its hinges. Storming the
cottage, he found a shriveled old husk of a woman leaning limply
against a chair with a black cauldron in the center of the space.
Small candles, flickering dimly, had been gathered around the
cauldron. A thick black book of spells laid nearby, its thin,
ancient pages fluttering in the breeze from the
entryway.

"The Seer of Salem
coven, I presume?" Rome asked the woman while chuckling
dryly.

The Seer feebly moved
her lips, but was too weak to reply.

Rome ignored her and
cast his eyes around the cottage.

"Where's the brat?" he
demanded.

"She is safe," the Seer
croaked, as raspy as a dry summer wind. "She is safe where you and
yours cannot touch her. She will be safe until the moment when she
realizes her destiny."

"Her destiny," Rome
repeated skeptically. "What is her destiny?"

"Her destiny is to
destroy you and your Sovereign!” the seer sneered at him, her voice
weak and crackling but dripping with venom.

Rome quickly crossed
the short distance to her and yanked the woman from her chair by
the neck. Squeezing, he hissed in her face, “What? What are you
talking about?”

“It is done,” the woman
cackled, even more weak than before. "It is done. She has been sent
to where she can be happy until the time comes to avenge her
people! She will destroy you! You and your Sovereign!"

"I have heard such
threats before, witch," Rome whispered in her face. "Meaningless
riddles from meaningless people."

He then extended his
fangs and buried his face in her neck. His only regret was that she
passed out from exhaustion before he’d had his fill. Rome enjoyed a
meal so much more when it struggled.

"Is it done?" a deep
voice like that of death embodied asked Rome as he entered the
dimly lit throne room.

Rome dutifully dropped
to his knees as he made his report. "Yes, Sovereign, it is as you
commanded. The witches are dead. Every one, to the last man, woman,
and child.”

"You lie to your
Sovereign," the evil voice resonated softly from the
shadows.

“My lord?” Rome replied
as his master stepped forward into the flickering
torchlight.

Slowly, ever so slowly,
he walked toward Rome. His pace seemed casual, and yet every step
was measured. Each footstep issued an ominous click against the
stone. Rome was grateful that his heart no longer beat, for it
would have been pounding through his chest.

Finally the Sovereign
stood over Rome, a black hooded cloak hiding his face but for his
mouth which sneered at him grimly.

"My Sovereign, I swear
to you they are all dead," Rome pleaded, "from the witches’ leader
to their Seer. They all rot even now in their precious town hall,
hidden away in their secret coven."

"What of the Seer's
child?" the Sovereign asked.

Rome trembled before
replying, "A bluff, my lord."

The Sovereign growled.
"Was there not evidence of a missing child?"

"There was, lord, but I
do not believe it to be reliable. The Seer was too weak even to
stand when I found her. She could not have carried a child in her
state, not across the course over which I tracked her. I found no
trace of a child at the cottage where I killed the Seer, and no
sign that one might have been hidden at some point along the way.
My men and I searched the coven and surrounding settlements
thoroughly. If ever there was a child, and I do not believe there
was, it has since vanished from our realm.”

“And yet you are not
certain. You fail me.”

“I serve you
faithfully, my Sovereign," Rome protested. “You said we were to
execute the witches on charges of treason. If it might please you
that I be so bold, what difference can one child, who had no part
in the treason, make?"

"The difference is in
following my orders and disobeying them. Your predecessor made the
same mistake, so many years ago. You have held such promise since.
Pity.”

“I serve you faithfully
still,” Rome swore, barely maintaining his composure. “Allow me the
opportunity to atone.”

“The seer's child still
lives!" the Sovereign cried out as he stamped his foot in
frustration.

Rome shook his head
before asking, "I wish to understand so as to better serve,
Sovereign. Why does the death of one little girl mean so much to
you?"

"I know you don't
understand," said the Sovereign as he turned away from Rome. "I
neither ask nor expect you to."

Rome held himself
motionless on his knees, head bent in subservience, waiting for his
deathblow, but after several silent, tense minutes, he heard the
Sovereign chuckle softly.

"Am I forgiven,
Sovereign?" Rome asked, a sliver of hope that he might be spared
creeping into his mind.

"Of course you are
not," the Sovereign snapped, whipping around to face him, "but
there is nothing to be done about it. At least not now. Consider
your task concluded. Until I instruct you further, you will resume
your standing orders. You are dismissed.”

Rome could not help but
hurry from the Sovereign’s chamber. The obvious fear he inspired in
his underling brought a thin smile to the authoritative vampire’s
face.