Walking With Witches

Back in September I saw a Flash Fiction Challenge.  The rules were that you would be assigned a genre, location and an item, and you would have 48 hours to write a story of no more than 1000 words.  I signed up!

This is the first story that I wrote for that challenge.

Genre:  Action/Adventure

Location: A Castle

Item: A bucket

Walking With Witches

The Castle loomed above him; a jagged shadow of spires and turrets thrusting into the midnight sky.  The night was warm, and the smell of moss and stagnant water lingered in the air.  His body glistened with sweat, shining over green whorls and stripes, and a bandolier chaffed against his bare chest.  He hadn’t wanted to come out here.  He thought he had left all this behind him.  But he’d had to do it - for John.

“We need you, Walker,” he’d said, pacing the living room.  The sun had been bright that day, but his eyes had been in a faraway place:  A dark place.  This place.

“You know I’m retired,” Walker had replied.  “I want a normal life.  I built this house to raise a family-”

“We both know you miss it,” John had interrupted.  “I’d go myself, but since I took that bullet...” he shook his head, a pained expression flashing across his serious grey eyes.

“I know,” Walker grimaced.  That had been part of the reason he had got out of the game.  But maybe he did miss it.  Just a little.  “So what’s the mission?”

“You’re in, then?”

“Maybe.  If you tell me what’s so important that one of your regular teams can’t go in.”

“Dammit, Walker, you know that’s classified.  I can’t tell you unless you’re on board.”

“I know how to keep a secret, John.”

His old friend sighed and then nodded.

“The enemy has a new weapon.  A staff which belonged to a... witch.  They’ve got an agent learning to use its power.  If we don’t stop her, she’ll become the next witch.”

“You came all the way up here to tell me a joke?  Jesus, John, why don’t you just send Dorothy?”

“I’m serious, Walker.  The Nazis experimented with the occult in the forties; they had some breakthroughs, too.  It was covered up, of course – we couldn’t let that go public.  Trust me; we don’t want her to reach full power.  We need her taken out, and the staff recovered.”

It had taken another three hours to convince him.  Even now he wasn’t sure he believed it, but Walker forced the doubts from his mind and focused on the mission.

“Time to say hello.”

The castle was almost impregnable.  Almost.  A cleverly-concealed grate allowed water to flow out to the moat; one well placed charge would blow a hole clean through the iron.  He checked his watch.  The timer ticked down, and bang on zero, a distant explosion rocked the walls.  At the same moment, he detonated the charge he had set at the grate.

Walker waded through the swampy water.  The courtyard beyond was clear; as he had hoped, the distraction at the main gate had caught the enemy’s attention.  Now all he had to do was find this so-called witch.

He darted from shadow to shadow, searching for a way in, until he found a carelessly unlocked door and ducked inside.

A dining hall stretched before him, lit by a multitude of candles.  Suits of armour lined the walls, and a long wooden table was set with silver.  He scanned the hall; empty.  Or so he thought.

There was a grinding of metal as every suit of armour turned its head and looked at him.  With stiff robotic movements, they stepped down from their pedestals.

Walker raised his rifle, and the staccato thunder of gunfire ripped through the hall.  Bullets pierced metal, ripping holes through the golems.  Still on they came.

The nearest raised its sword, a brutal two-handed steel blade.  The strike came more swiftly than the juddering movements would have suggested.  The commander dived out of the way, and then rolled to block another cut with his rifle.  Sparks flew as the weapons clashed.  Walker quickly barged his shoulder into another of the ghostly knights, sending it barrelling into two of its companions.  He jumped up onto the table and ran, silver and glass tumbling to the floor in his wake, then leapt through the door at the far end of the hall.

“Let’s see how you like modern warfare!” he grabbed a grenade from his belt and threw it back into the hall, then slammed the heavy wooden door closed behind him.  There was a boom, then the clatter of metal hitting stone.

“As I thought.  They just fell to pieces.”

A spiral stair ascended before him.  He leapt up the steps, ready for whatever challenge he might face next.  By the time he had reached the top of the tower and burst out into the night air, he was barely out of breath. 

“Welcome, Commander Walker.”

A woman, who had been surveying the landscape, turned to face him.  Her lips were red, her hair swept up into a neat bun.  Her clothes were black leather, and her voice was tinged with an exotic accent.  In her hand she held a staff of carved wood, atop which a gem glowed coldly.

“I’m sorry that you didn’t like my Knights,” she smiled.  “Perhaps I could entertain you myself!”  She stabbed the staff forward and fire shot out towards him.  Walker rolled, feeling the heat scorch his skin.  He opened fire, but the bullets bounced away, repelled by some unseen force.  The woman laughed.

“It isn’t polite to shoot at a lady!” 

Another blast of fire...

Walker looked around frantically.  There was a bucket sitting by the door, full of water.  He snatched it up and hurled the contents over the witch.

She screamed.

“I’m all wet!”

The gem began to glow.

Walker threw the bucket.

It struck her in the chest and she stumbled backwards.  Her balance gone, she tumbled over the ramparts with another scream.

“I thought she looked a little pail,” Walker muttered, picking up the fallen staff.

He felt its power fade, and the clouds parted to reveal a bright starry sky.  In the distance, the chatter of approaching helicopters whispered on the wind.

He had saved world for the last time – again.