Ben croft and the secret of the war witch

Ben Croft and the Secret of the War Witch

Joey Roswell

First published in 2014 by BK Press ISBN 978-1-928245-02-5 E-book ISBN 978-0-620-62930-0 Edited by Ginny Porter Cover design by Karien Naude Š Joey Roswell 2014

All characters in this work are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, translated or transmitted in any form by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the author.

Dedication To my wonderful parents and my beloved siblings – you’re the greatest source of good I will ever know.

Acknowledgements To Ginny Porter - the best friend and guide that a writer could ever ask for.

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CHAPTER 1: The Storm in the Shadows

en peered at the thick grey precast fence looming behind him. It resembled a prison wall, harbouring the evil that lay festering in the brown building he was now forced to call home. The dense clouds of fog seemed to hang in the air, like huge dustbin bags, at first aimlessly, then, reaching out to join each other with twisting tendrils, they began to whirl in a monstrous swirling rage. A foul voice in the air kept howling in the raging storm, spurring it on and calling to it as though the malicious element understood its every word. It was ready to destroy and wreck the earth with a hatred it had stored for centuries. The fires of malice and chaos burned uncontrollably in its bosom releasing massive forks of lightning. It cried thundered and howled for revenge. Tonight it would only accept blood and death as payment. Pain and suffering would be its dinner and the little good that was left in this mud hole Ben called home would be its dessert.

Ben stood horrified, completely cemented to the spot. The blood in his temples pumped so hard, it felt as though a boxing match was going on inside his head with both sides landing powerful blows against his sensitive skull. A blood-curdling scream ripped through the madness commanding the storm to use its full force and cause widespread panic. The evil grey element willingly obeyed and from the depths of its malicious core, a face began to form. The beautiful face of a woman that appeared to be almost fair and kind, but the eyes‌the eyes were cruel and hard and yellow. They immediately ruined the heavenly features of the deceptively beautiful creature. When the voice finally spoke, the sound was ear-splitting like nails scraping against a chalkboard. The sound was amplified so that Ben felt as though his eardrums were being pulled out. Then it began reciting what seemed to be some sort of an evil spell. The words felt like sharp glaciers ripping against his already frozen shaking body. The wind called out to him in its cold voice: 1

“Lightning, thunder Hail and plunder!

Take these happy lives and split asunder.

Their money we shall take, In utter ruin they shall break!

Gloom and doom they will only know Their happy lives we will gladly turn to woe!

Fill their days with aches and pains Give them heavy losses and strip their gains.

Make them beg for food and grains Leave them homeless in the rain!

Angry ancestors strip their youth Let old age come with bad news.

Ben Croft don’t you dare try to run You will never again see the sun.

The dreaded screams that hold you tight Will make sure you do not escape this night!

Be very afraid and my advice adhere You and your family are not welcome here.

Get out! Be gone! You are through.

If you persist, we are coming for you!”

At these words, Ben felt his blood begin to freeze. He couldn’t take anymore. He had to run somewhere but his legs felt like he had heavy bags of cement attached to them. “Move it feet!” he cried, as the wind gathered speed and tore through the precast wall as though it were paper.

“This is crazy,” he thought. “I’m only seventeen years old!

How on earth am I supposed to outrun a storm like this? Being fed to the lions would have been a better way to die. At least they would have given me weapons to defend myself. The only things I have right now are my legs of lead, and they just won’t carry me fast enough!”

Suddenly he saw a forest up ahead and with a fresh burst of speed, he made straight for it. The wind lapped at his heels,

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ripping out everything in its path and pulling him backwards, almost sucking him in. Ben felt as though he was swimming against the current, feeling that any minute now he would be drowned by a giant man-eating wave. He was almost at the entrance to the forest now. But there were other sounds behind him…footsteps? In addition to the wind, something else was chasing him. The sound of many heavy footsteps, as though whatever was chasing him was running on all fours. Now he seemed to hear the sound on both sides of him. The path ahead was rapidly growing narrower and the sounds of the pounding paws became deafening as the echo banged about in his ears. He could no longer hear the wind. It seemed as if it had died out completely. Ben had no idea what was chasing him, nor did he want to look. He was too afraid because he knew that whoever it was, they were gaining on him and fast.

“Maybe if I’m lucky I can lose them in the forest,” he thought hopefully, though he had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that he was being chased into an ambush. His lungs felt as though they would burst from exhaustion any minute now, and any last thoughts about screaming for help had been abandoned long ago. He was alone. There was no help out here, wherever “here” was supposed to be. The entire place was foreign to him. It seemed like the kind of place that people run to when all hope is lost. And then, it happened…he tripped and hit his head.

He cursed the boulder that was responsible for the searing pain in his head. Immediately he became aware that there were huge dark shadows closing in on him, surrounding him in a tightenchanted circle. From their outlines he could tell that they were dark hooded men, holding in their powerful hands what seemed to be very sharp spears. They glared at him menacingly. Without a word they continued to glare at him with looks of utter hatred.

The hurricane returned suddenly out of nowhere and spun its way above the circle of warriors and then it landed wildly in the centre of the enchanted ring, sending stones and rocks flying like

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shrapnel. It then transformed itself into a huge black cat with eyes like bright yellow dancing flames and powerful paws big enough to crush a lion’s head with the slightest effort. The fearful black silhouette moved gracefully in the dark ripping up the earth with its claws. It had a purpose for being here tonight.

“This is no circus cat who would be happy to jump through hoops of fire and do tricks for applause,” Ben thought grimly.

His huge terrified eyes locked with the monster’s cold yellow glare and he knew that at last, his end had come. He wondered just how long he had to live. Seconds seemed like decades and he couldn’t help wondering exactly how he would die at the hands of the beast.

“Will I be torn limb from bloody limb? Would it be kind and deliver the fatal crushing bite to my throat? Will it start eating me slowly and revel in my futile screams and cries for help as my body goes into shock and the lights go out of my pale blue eyes?”

He tried to block the image of his poor heart ceasing under the heavy strain of trying to pump whatever little blood he had left to his vital organs, only for it to escape from the deep gashes in his body.

With one giant leap, the beast landed on his bony chest. Ben immediately felt the weight of an entire mountain on top of him as he battled to breathe. His voice was drowned in his throat, which now felt like a lake that had dried up many years ago. The beast sunk its claws deep into his throat and then it spoke in an ear-splitting screeching voice.

“Give me ‘The Gift!’” it demanded. Ben was thoroughly perplexed and at last, he found his voice.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about! Who are you and what do you want with me?” A deafening roar filled the air and the beast glowered at him with her huge eyes like floodlights.

“I’ll ask you one last time; give me “The Gift” and I will spare your miserable life. Lie to me and it will be very unfortunate for you, my crippled little mouse!”

Ben had had enough. Summoning every last scrap of courage

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from his almost depleted reserves, he yelled for the heavens to hear.

“I already told you I don’t have it witch! You’ve got the wrong person! Now let me go!”

“Fine!” she hissed. “Have it your way!”

With a single swipe of her razor sharp claw, she ripped his yellow T-shirt to rags. She raised her deadly paw to begin slashing him to pieces when suddenly; she was thrown backwards and landed in a heap as though she had been struck by lightning.

From Ben’s chest, a bright gold light burst forth, burning the screaming warriors and turning them into ashes. Wounded and screaming in pain and rage, the black feline figure staggered to her feet and transformed herself into the beautiful evil woman again. A giant force field began to enshroud Ben, like a huge shield protecting him from any further harm. Before it could fully cover him, she blew a magical dust called Memorasing Dust into the growing force field before disappearing into the darkness.

Ben felt everything spinning around him as though he was being sucked through a spiral straw. Huge swirling black clouds did their best to keep him from remembering what had just happened by trying to fog his memory. In the distance, a masculine voice of wisdom, clear and deep, cut through the heavy fog and Ben heard it saying: “If you remember nothing else about this dream, then remember this: What you saw tonight is no storm in a teacup! The world is changing. The War Witch is coming and there will be no escape for any of us. I will continue to contact you through your dreams until you have the courage to meet me in person and unlock your destiny. I’ll be waiting for you Ben!” The voice trailed off, but the world around him continued to spin even faster now. Ben felt like a confused carrot being swished around in a kitchen blender at cyclonic speeds. He became aware that he was suddenly falling. He opened his eyes in mid-air as he fell off from the top of his bunk bed and hit the floor face first with a hard splat. His nose spurted blood. The

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door burst open as his parents came rushing in upon hearing the loud noise. His father looked alarmed as he picked him up from the floor.

“Ben Croft, what on earth are you doing? Aren’t you a little big to be falling out of a bunk bed?”

His mother began wiping his bloodied face. She looked equally concerned. “You don’t look too well honey! Your nose isn’t broken, luckily. What happened?”

“Bad dream,” Ben blurted out. Bad dream…but the nightmare had seemed so…real! The voice in the dream had told him very clearly to remember everything so it had to be real. He honestly felt he had forgotten half the dream. What was the deal about the whole “Gift” he’d been given? And who was the woman who had tried to kill him? Why did she look so familiar?

He would have loved to have a few minutes to himself to sit and think things over and try to make sense of what had just happened. But he had much more important issues…he was late for school!

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