Propitious continued to back away until finally she bumped into one of the nearby giant pillars.
Meanwhile, Wroth stalked her like a rabid dog. His breathing was quick and shallow, and white foamy saliva was collecting around his dark-gray lips. His jagged teeth formed a greedy and lustful sneer. When he finally came to stand before her, Propitious found that he was her height, and well-muscled.
With strong snatching hands, he grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around. It was clear what he meant to do, but her innocent mind was so stunned by the evil of his intentions that, at first, she made no effort to withstand him.
Suddenly, the Herald of Truth spoke into her mind. “He is not your husband! He is not to have you!”
With that command, Propitious abruptly awoke from her stunned daze and quickly turned back around to face the gray king. “You are not my husband! The other man, away there in that cave, he is now my husband. You shall not do this evil thing!”
Wroth looked at her with a confused expression. He could not understand her words, and so he dismissed them with a disinterested shrug. He moved to grab her shoulders again, but she threw up her hands to stop him.
This time, she made exaggerated gestures to try and help him understand her meaning. “No!” she said forcefully while shaking her head. “I am his wife; not yours!” With these words, she pointed in the general direction of the large cavern where Calamitous lay in slumber.
The gray king seemed to ponder what she was trying to tell him. After he followed her pointing finger, the realization of what she meant finally came into his mind and thus it showed openly upon his ugly face. He turned back to her, laughed cruelly, and then dismissed his father with a wave of his hand. Thus again, he grabbed her by the shoulders.
Propitious now knew that he understood what she was trying to tell him. He was knowingly choosing this wicked course, and so she knocked his hands away and shoved him back forcibly.
“No!”
Wroth growled and slapped her across her beautiful face.
Propitious stood to her full height and eyed him with a look of defiance that communicated neither anger nor hate. With her expression, she simply reinforced her stone-like resolve.
The fell-lord sneered again and reached forward to grab her once more, but this time she was ready. In one swift movement, she leaned back against the massive pillar of rock, lifted her right foot, set it squarely upon his dirty chest, and shoved him away as hard as she could.
Wroth stumbled backward, tripped over the rim of the nearest pool, and fell into the steaming hot water. After he resurfaced sputtering and gasping, a look of rage flashed in his pitch-colored eyes. The skull painted upon his face was now half washed away, and rivulets of the white paint ran down and disappeared into his matted black beard.
Snarling, he leapt out of the pool and glared at her with such hatred that she was sure he would try to kill her next. She readied herself for the fight, but when he saw her stance, it halted his movement toward her.
The gray king eyed her for a second and then seemed to conjure up a new plan. Stepping back, he sneered at her once more and then let out a howling screech. At his call, a host of little gray women swarmed to him. He gestured to Propitious and snarled an order.
Immediately, the fell-women rushed forward, grasped the Ancient by her arms, and tried to turn her around. She withstood them, but this only caused more to swarm around and grab hold of her. Before long, their numbers were too great, and so, by their grasping and clawing hands, the bold resistance made by Propitious was abruptly ended.
At the fell-lord’s command, these gray women moved the Ancient over to a flat boulder that was about waist high, and there, they held her down upon her stomach.
Slowly and deliberately, Wroth strutted up behind the helpless woman. With a wicked thrill in his black heart, he let out a slow and cruel chuckle.
Still, Propitious struggled to break free, but when she saw she could not, she closed her indigo eyes and whispered. “Please! Help me, oh great King of Heaven!”
All of the Graylings saw her do this, and they heard her speak, but her words meant nothing to them. Ignoring the prayer, Wroth eagerly readied himself for the evil that his black heart hungered to perform. Lustfully, he laid his filthy gray hand upon her back. His total lack of color was starkly contrasted by the healthy pale-golden hue of her skin.
At the exact same moment that Wroth had put his hand upon Propitious, a thunderous voice suddenly boomed from the sky. “Enough! You shall not touch my servant!”
To Propitious these were clearly spoken words, but to the fell-folk, it sounded like nothing more than a tremendous thundering, and other than being startled for a moment, they would have ignored it all together, for it often thundered in the north. However, at the same time that the voice spoke, a hole in the clouds abruptly swirled open allowing a gleaming shaft of light to race down and cast a sunlit circle upon them all.
Immediately, the Graylings let out shrieks of fear and pain, and thus Wroth and his wives staggered backwards in torment. A sizzling sound was heard, and visible tendrils of black smoke arose from their gray skin. With great haste, the mob turned and scurried back to their holes for fear that the entire sky might clear away and wash the land with unencumbered sunlight.
Thus, Propitious suddenly found herself alone within the shaft of light. Trembling, she quickly spun off of her stomach. Coming to a seated position, she brought her knees up under her chin and wrapped her arms around herself. She felt as though her assaulters would be able to grab her anew if any part of her body was outside of the small circle of light.
Tears escaped as she squeezed her indigo eyes shut, and in a shuddering whisper, she spoke again to the King of Heaven. “Thank you, my gracious King, for surely on this day, you have saved me from further shame and suffering.”
Because of the intense emotional shock brought upon her by the attack, Propitious would have sat there balled up within the shaft of sunlight indefinitely, for only there did she now feel safe. However, she slowly became aware of a small, strange noise. Fearfully glancing around to see what made the odd sound, Propitious finally noticed a small form quivering under the edge of the rock where she sat.
It was one of the small gray women who had been holding her prostrate. She had been so overwhelmed by the light that she had tried to crawl under the large flat rock. Unfortunately for her, there was no space under the boulder large enough, nor did the massive stone cast enough shade to sufficiently hide her, and so she now lay in agony within the narrow circle of sunshine.
As the stunned Ancient gazed at her through tear-blurred eyes, she slowly realized that the Grayling was little more than a girl. The whimpering sound was coming from the fell-child as she wept by reason of her terrible suffering. Wisps of smoke rose from her exposed flesh, and a continuous sizzling sound emanated from her gray colorless skin.
The awfulness of the girl’s torture slowly chased away the emotional trauma of Propitious. In the place of her shock, there suddenly grew a profound feeling of pity for the tormented child, and so she cautiously rose to her feet. Gathering her tattered garment, she covered herself as best she could.
Then, with careful tenderness, she scooped up the small Grayling in her arms. To her surprise, she found that the girl was far lighter than one her size should be.
Setting all other thoughts aside, she quickly carried the girl’s bony frame out of the sun’s rays. However, even then, the poor creature continued to suffer, for the burns upon her body were dreadful indeed, and so she did not stir.
When it was clear that she would need help in healing, Propitious gently took the gray girl back into the den of Calamitous.
Meanwhile, the cruel gray king cowered within the shadows of his den. Though Wroth was not scorched as severely as the Grayling girl, his burns were on a more sensitive area, for he had been caught by the sun just as he moved to carry out his vile desire, and as a result, he now winced with every movement.
With much pain, Wroth watched Propitious from the safety of his cave and recalled in his mind the events he had just witnessed.
First, he had seen and heard the bright-eyed wench whisper strange words of magic. Next, he had heard the clap of thunder and then felt the awful sun cast its beams of fire upon him. Lastly, he noticed that the clouds had closed in again at almost the same time that the bright-eyed woman had gone back into his father’s cave.
As he pondered all these things, a great dread of Propitious crept into his black heart, and he made plans to either steal away her power or find a magic stronger than what she wielded. Once he accomplished that, he would have his way with her and then gut her with his stone knife. However, until then, he knew that he must be very careful around this woman.
“Truly, she is a powerful witch indeed.” Wroth whispered with a sneer of hatred and then winced with pain again.
