CHAPTER SIX

WHICH WITCH ATTACKS

Nobody knows when Morgan took over the abandoned copper mine. Some speculate she preceded King Haines, but the exact date is unimportant. It’s the “how” of her takeover that concerns us. It is paramount to realize she was the person responsible for the flicker of light Alexander saw that fateful night—the night he referred to as the great leprechaun disaster. Unfortunately, it’s also crucial for you to read the history of Morgan and the night she entered the mine.

                                                                       

The moonless night was the coldest on record. It was so cold; an egg would freeze on the sidewalk. The lights of the copper mine pierced the darkness. Those in the valley took comfort in the lit mine. They knew their loved ones working in the pit were relatively safe from harm… safe, if you don’t count the occasional cave-ins.

Guards roamed the grounds with crossbows at the ready. Their eyes scanned the woods for any indication of vicious forest creatures. Of course, any self-respecting vicious creature knew it was insane to hunt on a night as cold as this. They were all snuggled warmly in their beds, dreaming of tasty miners.

However, not all the vile, despicable creatures slept that particular night. One such creature slithered along the tree line, crackling. She placed her sights on the mine. Morgan decided. All those inside her new home would have to serve as her minions or die. She preferred the latter.

At the entrance to the mine, two guards tried not to freeze to death. Steam exuded from Private Angus Strand’s nostrils. He stamped his frigid feet on the filthy, dingy snow. His overstuffed jacket was no match for the chill, and he wrapped his arms around his body, to no avail. The frigid air refused to release its tight grip. Corporal Eli Phillip, standing to his right, fared no better. He swayed back and forth, blowing a cold breath into his ungloved hands. His crossbow leaned against his leg, arrow side up.

Private Strand whispered. “It’s too calm. I fear there is something amiss.”

The corporal jumped. They’d worked together for three months, and this was the first time the private uttered a single word.

“It’s just your dinner causing tricks in your imagination. Perhaps you should burp.” The corporal, grimaced as his crossbow fell from his frozen grasp, sending the nocked arrow skittering along the frozen ground like a drunken snake.

The private shivered. “I tell you, there is something unholy out there.”

Corporal Phillip leaned down to retrieve his weapon, careful not to remove his eyes from the terrifying dark woods. He notched another arrow and leaned the bow against his leg. “It’s nothing more than your urge to find a warm fire playing tricks with your emotions.”

Private Strand shrugged off the feeling of dismay but kept an ever-vigilant eye glued on the horizon.

If Eli or Angus could see in the dark, they would have noticed Morgan tiptoeing between the trees, with her black cape flowing in the slightest of breezes.

Morgan stood motionless behind the last withered tree nearest to the mine. Her mouth formed a sinister smile. She raised her arms over her head and chanted an eerie mantra. The acidic, guttural words spewed from her lips. Dry leaves swirled around her as if being whipped around by a mixer. A sudden gust of wind encircled the witch as her long blonde hair twirled in the breeze. A dark mist enveloped her. She became the bleak, black fog, and was ready to move into her new home.

Like a dark, menacing cloud, she meandered toward the two unsuspecting, freezing guards. Morgan touched the trigger of the crossbow next to Corporal Phillip. Eli looked down in bewilderment at the gaping hole in his chest before he fell into a pool of his own blood. Morgan’s next victim, Private Strand, didn’t stand a chance. She sent a bolt of dark lightning through his eyes, burning his brain instantly.

                                                                       

 It’s sufficient to say Morgan left no survivors inside or outside of the cave. You will thank me later for sparing you from the blood-curdling ordeal. Trust me. Besides, I am sure we haven’t seen the last of Morgan Olsen. You can count on that.