It was about surviving. If you didn’t show your full abilities, they couldn’t come after you. It was weak tea, as far as survival theories went, but they’d both grown up under the tutelage of Ludanis, seen his ways as a mixture of useful and antiquated. They were hard to shake even now.
“Don’t like the looks of this,” Gregory said, a growl in his voice. “Fucker’s sharp so be careful. No telling what’s on its thorns.”
He handed Octavia a rose. Black-stemmed with dark green leaves, petals a lush, luxurious black-red. Darker, richer than blood. But it smelled of copper and magic and made her nose wrinkle in disgust. “Let’s haul it all back,” she said as she laid a hand on Val’tanisz’s arm. “You should rest.”
Val’tanisz snorted. “And you shouldn’t tell your elders what to do.” But the old griffin was grinning. “Now someone help me back to the inn before I pass out.”
***
“Octavia, we must speak!”
Rowan Montgomery was running full tilt up the manor’s lane, satchel bumping against her hip. The morning was cold and damp and Octavia had just filled Roderick and Bel in on the events in town and checked on the house’s inhabitants when Rowan appeared. Ruby, who was tired but no worse for wear, was taking Octavia’s ruined coat when the vampire spotted the look of panic on the witch’s face. It was more than enough to make Octavia pull everyone to the greenhouse. Inside there were too many ears - some of them quite young - and Octavia didn’t want to make anyone scared.
Rowan was not happy about being dragged away from the house and a quick explanation of whatever was bothering her, but Octavia’s gentle insistence seemed to quell her panic a little. “Tell me what this is first,” Octavia said as she held up the rose.
Rowan hissed and slapped the flower from her hand. “It’s cursed! It’s one of hers!”
Everyone in the room stopped. All chatter died instantly but Rowan didn’t seem to notice. She ran over to the rose, plucked it up with a handkerchief retrieved from her pocket, and then turned wild eyes on them. “Did anyone touch this with their bare hand or do something stupid like try to smell it?” At their silent head shakes she seemed satisfied, breathing in deeply before turning back to Octavia. “Do not ever let anyone touch anything like this. Understood?”
“Yes, but -“
“No!” She cried, throwing the handkerchief’s edge over the rose, covering it. “You didn’t see what I did.” Rowan threw questions at them: where was the rose found? Who spotted it? How many were in the attack? Did they bring anything back, a body or -
Octavia set the Dark Watcher scimitar on a nearby table with a clang. “I’ve two more if you’ve need of them,” she said, her tone gone cold like a winter lake. “But no more guessing. And no more hiding.” She jabbed a clawed finger at the scimitar. “I won’t go on the defensive again.”
Rowan studied the blade for a long moment and when she looked up at Octavia, the light in her eyes was fierce. Burning hotly with anger. “You won’t have to. I know where they’ll come through.” Rowan pulled a tattered, folded piece of thick parchment from her satchel and spread it out. “I spent all night caught between sleeping and waking. I saw things, Octavia.”
Those words settled in Octavia’s gut like an anvil. “Like how Tempest and Merry see?”
The witch nodded. “I’m the interpreter,” Rowan said to the others. “I transcribe the prophecy, archive it, send Octavia a copy. But this was so real.” She set the other wrapped rose and the charred feather on the table for all to see. The feather made Bel freeze but Roderick put a hand on their arm and they relaxed. Octavia shot him a grateful look and he nodded, smiling slightly.
“That explains the pheromones,” Rowan muttered, drawing a startled laugh from Gregory. But her attention quickly refocused back on the map. “These are the original ley lines in the area. You’ll notice how they run concurrent to the existing ones.” She pointed out the old lines first, which she’d drawn in heavy dotted lines. “And these are the ones we know exist now.” Those were drawn in blue ink. “Now don’t let those soothsayers in the big cities try to convince you that the ley lines migrate and that explains their movement. These are different sets of lines. Different magics. Millennia apart in age and yet…”
Everyone watched, fascinated, as Rowan held out a piece of amber and let go. The rock dropped, then hovered over the map. Ink marking the original ley lines was pulled from the map, the lines glowing softly. “Where did the attack tonight happen?” Octavia pointed to The Drake’s Rest. “And the rose you found, Val’tanisz?” She marked the spots on her map with charcoal and those hurried slash marks also levitated, floating below the other lines.
Rowan marked her home on the map. Then Wilderwood. “Do you know where you came through?” she asked, attention now on Bel. Rowan’s tone wasn’t unkind but it was hurried, scratching.
Bel shook their head. “I was all but blind those first few moments. Acting on instinct. The dogs hunted and I ran.”
“We might be able to find it yet,” Rowan said, her mutter almost an aside to herself than an assurance to Bel or the others. “It would help with triangulation but for now this is enough.” She put her hands, palms up, under the floating lines, snapped her fingers, and they coalesced. Forming one diagram that Rowan spun until they could all see it. There were three points where the old and current ley lines met: the spot behind The Drake’s Rest, the field where the cows had been slaughtered, and Wilderwood Manor. “Old and new power combined,” Rowan said quietly. “A confluence of magic and time energies, meant to keep the other realms at bay. This is where they’ll break through.”
The room was silent for several long moments. Rowan didn’t crow her revelations or magical prowess at them. She looked as despondent and worried as the rest.
“That seems about right,” Octavia mused, breaking the silence. “The manor’s been here since before the town’s founding. I always assumed my ancestor knew something about the land he didn’t document.”
“You are startlingly calm about all of this,” Rowan snapped, jabbing a finger at the floating spot that indicated the manor. “This is your home.”
Octavia shook her head. “The manor is a bunch of bricks and mortar. The town is my home. I’d raze this place to the ground if it meant keeping everyone safe.”
Bel slipped in beside her, put an arm around her waist. “What do you want to do?”
Sixteen
For the second time in just a few days, Octavia found herself standing before a body on a slab in the vast cellars below Wilderwood Manor. The town was once again secured but they were already preparing to move those living in the manor out of town. Octavia regretted it but she’d rather tears and frustration now than mourning the dead later. They might dislike her for the moment, but they’d never forgive her if those they loved wound up dead. The grumblings were batted away by an upbeat Ruby and Harken, who were in charge of helping everyone pack up to relocate. The O’Malley clan would escort those left up the coast to a holding of the Freiderich clan. By the time they got there she hoped it would all be over and the town would be safe once more.
But their plan was risky. Dangerous. It could end in flames even if they were careful, blood soaked ground if everything went utterly wrong.
The wards would come down completely in less than two days. It had taken some convincing but once the other sisters understood why, it had taken little to pull them to her side of things. Gregory was getting the best of his warriors and scouts ready to fight, dispersing them between the two other ley line locations. Roderick had managed to get a few supplies and a handful of Rangers to portal in the next day. There were a few trained fighters in Wilderwood, and some of those who could wield a blade were like Mama Stockton, preferring claws and strength to steel. It might not be enough to ward off an untold number of Dark Watchers. Beheading them worked but few had Mama Stockton’s strength.
But that’s why the plan existed. Debated over hours in Octavia’s study, shored up through
a ticking clock and desperation. And that left Bel and Octavia to examine the Dark Watcher some of Gregory’s scouts had hauled back to the manor. Now was the chance to find weaknesses, since no one believed they could behead all of them as they came through the portal.
“I can’t convince Mama or the sisters or some of the others to leave,” Octavia said now that they were alone.
Bel shook their head, braids jingling with charms. The ones they’d left behind before traveling to the Faelands. It had felt good to secure them on their person once more. “You won’t be able to. They love this town and they can fight.”
Her shoulders slumped. “I feel like I’ve failed them. I know what you’ll say. The same thing Gregory said. But I can’t help how I feel.”
They ran a soothing hand down her back, their touch anchoring her to the ground, making her feel a little bit better. “Imagine how bad this would have been if you’d had no warning.’
Octavia shuddered. It would have been awful. Roderick’s arrival, his quest to find and kill Luther, and centuries of foresight and -admittedly - slight paranoia on her part had all played a role. And as she looked down at the dead, unmasked Dark Watcher, a shiver rolled through her. Bel wanted to play their part and no amount of convincing or pleading would make them back down.
“I don’t like this,” Octavia said softly, turning to Bel. Catching their hazel eyes and trying not to frown too deeply. “This is powerful magic. If you get….”
“If I get?”
She huffed at them. “If you get lost, I don’t know that I can pull you back.”
Bel wrapped an arm around her waist, tugged her close. “That’s why you’ll both be here,” they said, their face pressed so tightly to the side of her head that Bel’s words, their breath stirred her hair. “I have some training against the Sanguine Arts. I’m using the scimitar as a conduit, not myself.”
That warm, safe feeling she got whenever Bel was near helped settle her jostled nerves. “Okay.” Octavia cupped Bel’s jaw, pulling them down to her. “But I can’t lose you again. It would destroy me.”
“You won’t.”
The door to the cellar opened and Roderick strode in. By all the old gods he looked good, so at home and confident, so comfortable in his own skin, in his element. The surety of his stride, his bearing made her dizzy. She remembered every touch, every caress and it only made her want more. There was a satisfied curl to the smirk on his face when he saw them pressed so closely together. But his tone was all business as Roderick bellied up to the metal slab on which the body lay. “I’d love to take this thing apart and study it but time is not on our side.” With a gloved hand he reached into a pouch on his belt and pulled out a handful of clinking metal and stone charms on leather cords, gently picking through them until he had a few cords looped around his fingers. The others he set aside next to a fist-sized hunk of amber, which he’d pulled last from the pouch.
Octavia leaned in, curious. She knew Rangers carried charms to help detect or ward off magics. Bel had several on their person when they’d first met; little hunks of stone and copper, some of them sending little sparks or tingles through her fingertips when she touched them. But Roderick had a fistful of the things and she realized she had so much to learn about him. It was something to look forward to, once this was all over.
“I’m not about to cut into this thing without a better understanding of how it’s protected. From what you all experienced when you fought it, they’re strong but not necessarily quick and their armor has some kind of enchantment on it.” His words faded as he tested one charm after the next, leaving them to hover in mid-air over the Dark Watcher’s corpse. A spark of color occasionally popped but eventually all the charms were set aside, leaving only the hunk of amber. Roderick sighed. “I thought it might come down to this.”
Something in his tone and the stiffness in his spine brought them both to his side; Bel to his left, Octavia on his right. Octavia put a hand on his arm. “That belonged to Yasmin, didn’t it?” she asked softly, gesturing to the amber.
“Yes.” Roderick swallowed hard but didn’t elaborate. “Technically a Ranger’s charms are supposed to go back to their family after their passing but I couldn’t give it up.” He gave them a wan smile. “Not the worst thing I could have done but occasionally I still feel guilty.”
“There are a lot of things the Rangers don’t need to know,” Bel replied, tone like steel. “I’m not intending on informing them of my presence until after this mess is over. A charm from your partner wouldn’t even interest them.”
“Fair enough.” But he didn’t sound sure. Roderick plucked up the amber, squeezed it briefly, and held it over the Dark Watcher’s body, letting go with a sigh.
The amber dropped like a stone in a lake. It hit the body with a thud but didn’t topple. Something high-pitched buzzed in her ears. Her teeth itched. “What is that?” Octavia asked, wincing as she looked at the others. They both bore confused, slightly pained expressions and as Roderick reached out to pull the amber piece off the body, a wave of energy flooded the room. Octavia planted her feet, flung a hand out to grab Roderick as he grasped Bel’s arm. It was like being caught in a hurricane; just the roar of wind in their ears, eyes watering, faces turned against a force that hit them from all sides.
And then it stopped.
The amber dropped to the ground, now cracked in a dozen small places. The Dark Watcher’s body crackled with energy, sparks of blue and white jumping over its armor like lightning moving from cloud to cloud. One by one the bone scales fell, hitting the ground only to shatter into dust. They watched the eerie tableau for several long minutes until nothing of the armor was left. Bel broke the silence. “I’ve never seen amber do that.” Their voice was shaky, breathless.
“Act as a nullifier? No.” Roderick hauled Bel to their feet before inching closer to the body. “Amber doesn’t nullify magic.”
“It doesn’t do that with our magic.” Octavia pointed to the fine coating of bone dust around them. “That is not the magic of our realm. We need to talk to the sisters.”
***
They convened in the study, everyone staring at the now cracked hunk of amber resting on a small table. The object was given a wide berth as though everyone feared it would suddenly grow teeth and launch at one of them. Stranger things, Octavia supposed as she stared at the others. They’d explained what happened in the cellar and the perplexed, slightly worried looks that passed between the witches only made the churning in her gut worse. “Thoughts, theories?” she said, looking between the Montgomerys.
“I...hmmm.” Merry hovered her hand over the amber piece, her many rings sparkling. “Amber is typically used in detecting magic, not deflecting or diffusing it. Strange.”
“But I think we can use this,” Tempest replied immediately. “We don’t have enough amber to protect the town but we might have enough to help protect all of you.” She turned her meadow-colored eyes to Mama Stockton. “Though I’m still confused as to how you were unaffected by the armor’s magic. Octavia said you beheaded one of them easily.”
Mama huffed and Octavia watched, stunned, as a flush colored the woman’s cheeks. “We’re born with fire in our wings and amber in our claws,” she said quietly, her rough voice a rumble that rattled Octavia’s sternum. “It wasn’t just something we said about our kind.” The shimmer of her glamour began to fade and she outstretched a clawed hand to them to inspect. The four talons glinted with a deep bronze color. “My fire’s long been gone, been in this realm for time enough that it faded. But these are fused to us when we’re small.”
“Fascinating.” Roderick leaned in to get a better look. “So they’re caps or….”
“Yeah. Where we grow up everything’s magical. Kind of like the Faelands. I was brought here as a young’un but the caps were already on. Never made sense to get rid of them.” Mama curled her hand inward, shook it, and the glamour resettled. “Your best bet is to tip your blades and arrows in it.”
&n
bsp; “Nullify their armor, make them easier to kill. It gives us a better chance with the scimitar in play,” Bel said but their gaze was fixed on Octavia and Gregory. “You don’t fight with weapons.”
Gregory grinned. “Don’t usually need ‘em. We are weapons. But if there’s any advantage we can use, it’ll go a long way to setting down this insurgence.”
“I can help with that.” Rowan looked up from what she’d been fiddling with on the far side of the room, striding over to slap an object into his hand. “It’s a prototype so don’t get too excited about it but we’re short on time and resources.” She jerked her chin at Roderick, dark hair flying in her face as she did. “Better tell your Rangers about this. They’ll have better access to amber. And if they can bring more with them tonight that’s best. If amber can mitigate some of their protections, that gives Bel the opening to close the portals.”
Wilderwood Page 17
