The Witch and the Hydra

Nicholas Kaler

The witch and the hydra
Clash outside a cave
The witch and the hydra
Only one head can rise 

Shastanul lunged to her right as the third of the hydra’s seven scaled maws bit at lightning speed. She tucked into a roll, almost crushing her wand against her hardened leather armor, but she evaded its fangs.

Shastanul returned upright with her wand aimed at its central heads.

The hydra reared its heads high and snarled in a unified hiss. Its colossal size could crush any tree that dared to grow near its cavernous, barren lair. From between its blackened blue scales pulsed green sludge. From its fangs trickled a blighted disease that stained the scarred ground.

When she embarked from her community of Nalidons, Shastanul thought it to be a primal monster that tormented them. She had prepared for this fight as best she could: a metallic wand and sleek leather armor carved with winding symbols of protection. She had trimmed her starleaf hair to keep out of her eyes, and wrote rites in Walnair, the language of Mualak, across the chestnut hue of her plated barklike forehead. She learned too late of the curse that stripped away the monster’s soul, leaving it the Rotted husk before her.

She flicked her wrist with a spiral snap, and a spinning sheet of ice slipped out from the wand’s tip. The spell sliced cleanly through the hydra’s fourth and fifth heads like a machete through vines.

Though the heads toppled, their replacements and reinforcements grew out of the bubbling green sludge. Its fourteen eyes became twenty-eight rays concentrated on its mortal prey.

Heads four through eleven swarmed out. Shastanul raised a barrier of vines, but the tenth head snaked past and pierced through Shastanul’s side.

Home of nature’s children
Victims of the serpent
Home of nature’s children
Where a Nalidon must rise 

Shastanul reeled back as she felt the Rott burn in her stomach. She inhaled deeply as she prayed to survive long enough to complete her quest; to end the attacks on her hometown Balimuul.

Shastanul spun her wand in a circle, and lightning danced. It sparked out, jumping from head-to-head. Each head dropped, but from it, new vines emerged with venom dripping, as twenty-eight Rotted daggers became fifty-six hungry for her blood.

Her heart sank as the last element burned through her mind. The one element she had no spells for: fire.

The blight in her veins twisted and she crumpled downward. Her mind ached and folded in, as the doubts took hold. The proud foundations of Balimuul would fall with her.

A hope flashed in her mind and Shastanul dropped her hands to the ground.

The Rotted hydra raised its legion of scaled heads and descended upon her.

As the heads struck downward, Shastanul infused the soil with Arcane, seeking the few, free, living spots. The grass intertwined with itself and wrapped around the hydra’s legs.

The heads lurched to a stop a leaf’s space from her head. The vines crawled between each spine and enwrapped the multitude of heads.

Shastanul rose upward and locked her eyes with the first head. Behind its eyes, behind its aggression, she saw emptiness.

Shastanul stepped back and raised her wand. Her thoughts focused on home. Her mentors, her siblings, her wards.

She tapped into the deep wilds beyond the ground. Down to the roots of the Wild Realm Mualak as her elders had taught her to seek.

The Realm’s energy flowed into her and Shastanul spoke in the fluid tongue of Walnair.

Icy projectiles encircled the hydra.

Shastanul spoke again with a sharp tug, and the spell shifted. The crystals vibrated faster as the ice melted into fiery flames.

Shastanul slashed with her wand and the flames converged on the corpse. The flames burned deep, releasing the infection from its coil. Soon, the legion of heads became ash.

Shastanul staggered back, reaching to her side. She found herself whole and realized the Realm Energy of Mualak had cleansed her and she rose to her feet. With the pruning done, it was time to flourish.

Binder of Elements
One will ward the land
Binder of Elements
Will guide us all to rise 

Anonymous Digital Artist

Artist Statement: The prompt of roots was somewhat difficult for me as I couldn’t really think of any interesting things that directly tie to either my roots or roots in a physical sense. This lead me to think about roots in an abstract means like what the root of an action is or a root that you wouldn’t really think about that often.

Nicholas Kaler

Biography: Nicholas Kaler is an aspiring writer of fantasy and flight. He has a background in the social sciences as well as physical education, having attended Bellevue College and Eastern Washington University. Through his writing, Nicholas seeks to provide the same sense of wonder and magic everyone looks for in their hearts. At the moment, he lives in Sammamish, Washington and is seeking his MFA in Creative Writing at Oregon State-Cascades.

Artist Statement: “The Witch and the Hydra” is the recurring battle of life versus decay embodied through mortal instruments.