The witch took another long drag from her pipe and let out the smoke. She then put it out and placed it back on the side table. Reaching inside the box, she grabbed the bones, brought her hand up to her mouth and spoke to it. Then she threw the bones on the ground and gazed at them. Satchel looked at them too but saw nothing. The old woman sat up with her eyes closed and began to speak.

  “As soon as you leave this place, seek out Loth, the Arns?than warrior. You will need him. He will be a great asset to you, young ‘un, and a great friend. Hm. I see a sly Komji has kept tabs on you for the last few days.”

  “Kazi!”

  Itannia nodded. “He serves the White Knight.” Again she spat. “Once a proud warrior from Komjin, now a foolish husk of a man, bent on regainin’ his honor. Doesn’t realize that as long as he’s servin’ that beast, honor will always be out of reach.” The witch tilted her head to one side. “But you asked about the girl.” She paused for several long minutes. “It’s hard to tell. There’s little else I can tell you about her that is useful.”

  Satchel grunted in frustration. “I thought you were supposed to help me save her.”

  “That tone again, lad. Watch the tone. I am doing what I can. Give me a moment.” She paused. When she spoke again, her voice had a sad note to it. “Oh, that poor girl. Bad as her current predicament is, it is small compared to what is to come. I can see one decision she must face, and it’s not one I wish for anyone. Whatever way it goes, she’ll get hurt as will those she cares for. She will need you more at that time than she does now. You will need to be at your strongest when that happens.”

  Satchel regarded her in silence, unsure what to say or think.

  Itannia’s head moved side to side. “That’s all I can tell you about helpin’ the girl. Be prepared though, young man. You will face a great loss soon. You’ll have to leave Leona at once or face further sufferin’. From there, your paths become many, and you will have to decide where to go. Goin’ to Brunland like Jarek wants might help you discover more about the spyglass. You may instead venture farther north, past Brunland and into the frigid regions of Arns?th to recruit the aid of the tribes of Warlord Kael. The Guild of Steam at Garbagnon is another option but be wary if you do. Long gone are the days when a strong heart ruled those halls. Nowadays, it’s just stuffy bureaucrats. Oh! And the fabled gates of Gamlin’s Reach would be open to you, that is if you can find them. The Bone King will see to it that you keep your perspective. Or does that come later? No matter, the choice will be yours and yours alone. And remember not to blame yourself for the terrible battles that are coming.”

  The witch’s words swam in Satchel’s mind. What were these places she was talking about? And the people she mentioned with powerful sounding names. Warlord Kael. Bone King. It sounded like something out of an old myth. And what battles did she mean?

  “What battles?” was the question that won out.

  The witch shook her head. “I cannot say more. I’ve already done too much. I only hope I haven’t been noticed.”

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  Itannia became silent. Satchel sat in thought for a long time as her words swam over and over in his head.

  Suddenly, the witch began screaming. Her body convulsed as black smoke poured from her eyes and mouth.

  “How did it find me?” she yelled, her voice strained like she was being choked. “It was supposed to be bound!”

  “What’s happening?” said Satchel.

  “I stayed…too long. I...have to...let go, but...won’t...let me.”

  “What won’t let you?”

  “Get out...before...sees you.”

  Bewildered and confused, Satchel didn’t move. The witch spoke words in a strange tongue and waved a feeble arm at Jarek and Basco. They stirred from their slumber.

  They then saw the witch and leaped to their feet, drawing their weapons.

  Satchel jumped in front of them and said, “We need to get out of here!”

  The shaking grew worse, the smoke became thicker.

  A voice, dark and deep, as though from outside the world, said, “Ah, what have we here? A little witch poking her nose where it doesn’t belong?”

  “Get...out...now!” said Itannia.

  Basco and Jarek made for the door with Satchel close behind. They burst through the doorway just as the black smoke filled every corner of the shack. The three of them ran some distance away from the hut before stopping to look back. Black clouds billowed out of every crevice, enveloping the shack in a dark aura. Itannia’s screams pierced the air. The fog rolled back as the light in the forest dimmed. The smoke undulated and rose high into the air. It then arced down and morphed into something resembling an eye. It opened to reveal a yellow iris full of wrath and hatred.

  “Ye gods!” yelled Jarek.

  “Gods?” said the dark voice with a laugh. “Gods cannot save you.” The eye narrowed. “And you have something I want! Where is it? Where is the scroll?”

  The dark cloud grew larger and drifted toward them.

  The eye looked at each of them but stilled when it fell on Satchel.

  “You again? Ah! I didn’t see it before now. The bloodline still lives. That’s what you were trying to protect, old hag? Oh, this is grand. You’ve led me straight to him.”

  Then it stopped and the eye opened wide.

  “What?!” it said. “Impossible! How can she be this strong?” It let out a growl of frustration, and the smoke pillar began to thin. The eye fixed itself once more on Satchel. “I’ll come for you soon, boy. Be ready.”

  It let out a wicked laugh. The ground shook beneath them. Then the smoke receded into the shack, the door slamming shut as the last of it disappeared.

  Satchel, Jarek, and Basco stared in silence for what felt like ages. The mist from the swamp rolled back in. The sounds of the forest resumed once more as if nothing had happened.

  Basco broke the silence, saying, “Bloody hells.”

  Jarek looked at Satchel and asked, “What was that?”

  The young thief ignored the question and ran to the shack, shouting, “Itannia!”

  Yanking the door open he ran in and saw the witch lying still on the floor. He went to her side and knelt near her head.

  “Itannia...”

  A small croak came from her throat. Her head turned from side to side as she groaned.

  “What can I do?” he asked.

  She looked up at Satchel, grabbed a hold of his arm and said, “Heed my words, boy. Make your choices good ones. Above all, you must not be taken in by it before the right moment. You won’t be strong enough.”

  She coughed and blood spat out from her mouth onto the floor.

  “Jarek! Basco! Help!”

  “It’s too late,” said Itannia. “Open the chest. You will find a gift. You’ll know what to do with it.” She smiled weakly. “It’ll go well with the boots.”

  Satchel’s mouth worked, but no words came out. So many questions, but they all seemed so irrelevant now. He was faintly aware of Basco and Jarek stepping in close behind him.

  The witch looked up at Jarek and said, “Stupid man. You have to tell him.”

  Jarek could only stare at her.

  “Tell me what?” asked Satchel.

  The old thief's face fell, and he looked ashamed. Itannia coughed once more and with that, the witch’s life vanished from her.