The witch’s expression said the djinn’s wish to aid them confounded her.
But Sorac understood. It might go against everything they thought they knew about a djinn, but this one loved the little drakelings in his own way.
After a moment, the blood witch looked down at the drakeling she held in her arms and then back at the djinn. “Ah. I think I understand now, though, I’m not sure I believe it.”
She turned and threaded her way through the soldiers, only pausing to call back to Sorac. “You, stay where you are and don’t move if you want all your young to survive.”
Continuing toward the djinn, she circled the spirit creature a few times. “You will obey me. You must. You have no other choice.”
“There is always a choice,” the djinn barked back.
The blood witch just grinned and shook her head. “Not for you. Not if you don’t want to watch me kill this sweet little fellow right in front of you.”
She gestured one soldier closer and whispered in his ear. He nodded and drew his dagger.
Sorac howled as the male pressed his blade against the drakeling’s throat. The little one hissed, sensing danger, but he couldn’t move.
Roaring, Sorac advanced.
“I told you not to move,” the blood witch barked. All the guards holding drakelings drew their daggers. “You can’t save them all. If you attack, you might save none. Same goes for you, djinn. Stop fighting, or I’ll kill this one and his blood will be on your hands.”
The djinn didn’t answer in words, but as he slowly forced himself off the ground, Sorac could see the look of defeat in the male’s fiery gaze. Some battles had to be lost to win the war. Sorac knew that, but it didn’t make this surrender any easier.
“As my mistress commands,” the djinn said, his voice cold enough to slay.
Blood Witch Taryin turned to Sorac next, her one eyebrow raised in question. “And you? Are you prepared to surrender, drake?”
Biting off another snarl building in his chest, Sorac answered. “I’ll do what you want. Just don’t harm my drakelings.”
“Shift back into your man form,” Taryin ordered.
Swallowing back his fire, he battled instincts and forced his firedrake nature to give over and resumed the form of a man. “I’ll return with you peacefully; just don’t kill them.”
“Good. You were always wise, Sorac. But I don’t want your surrender. I need something else. Remember, if you fight or resist, I’ll kill this little one.”
The blood witch turned her attention back to the djinn. “You, kill the firedrake.”
Chapter 16
HEARING TARYIN’S COMMAND, Vaspara hurtled herself over the berm she’d been hiding behind. She would not lose Sorac or her family. Summoning the full force of her magic, everything she possessed, she dragged it out from the deepest recesses of her soul.
Flinging it toward Sorac with all her love and desperation, she issued only one command: protect.
A shield of shimmering radiance surrounded the firedrake a moment before the djinn’s spell struck. The two powers exploded outward in a fiery brilliance, blinding Vaspara.
But she didn’t need her sight to beg.
“Don’t kill him. He’s worth more to you alive than dead. He can train the little ones as they grow. The Battle Goddess can have the winged legion she’s always wanted.”
The other soldiers were in chaos. Vaspara could hear their shouts, curses, and grunts as they stumbled blindly. But then something else distracted her as the hair on her arms stood erect.
The djinn was calling more magic. He wasn’t blinded like the rest of them she realized in despair. She didn’t have it in her to summon a second defensive shield.
Sorac would die this time.
“I love you and the drakelings,” she whispered into his mind.
“You made my existence worth living, my beloved succubus, my oldest friend. I’ll see you in the afterlife one day.”
“We’ll go together,” she said as she stumbled toward him.
“No, Vaspara. If they let you live, try to find a way to still be the mother to my brood.” Then his tail knocked her off her feet, preventing her from reaching him. “Goodbye, my love.”
No! Everything within her cried out.
“Hold!” The blood witch’s sharp command held Vaspara frozen even though the command was for the djinn, not her.
Slowly Vaspara’s sight returned, grainy and colorless.
Taryin was approaching her.
“How did you stop a djinn’s spell? The first blow should have cut right through your magic and killed the firedrake.”
“I don’t know.” That was the truth. She wasn’t sure where the power had come from.
“She loves the firedrake more than she loves her own soul,” said the djinn in his coldly cruel voice. “That gave her the ability to tap into the essence of her soul—spirit magic, similar to what I command.”
The blood witch tilted her head, studying them both. “I wish to know more about this ability.”
“Why?” the djinn asked. “Love is not something you will ever be able to mimic or even understand.”
“If there is a power that can stand against a djinn’s magic, then I must know more about such an ability. The succubus and the firedrake can both live for now.”
Vaspara continued to blink. Slowly color returned to her vision.
Taryin was now watching her with a calculating eye. “Together we will dig until we find the answers I seek.”
“Might I offer a suggestion, mistress.” The djinn made the title sound like an insult, but he didn’t seem to care what the blood witch might do in retaliation. “Has not the Battle Goddess always wanted a flying legion? I’ve studied Sorac enough to know he wouldn’t do anything to endanger his drakelings. He’ll obey whatever orders you issue without question.”
“Hmm. I see a flaw with your reasoning, djinn,” Taryin challenged. “If he is flying with his legion of firedrakes, whatever can we use to hold him? He and his children can just fly off at any moment.”
“You use me,” Vaspara said suddenly, her voice growing stronger as she walked toward the blood witch’s location. “He’s been in love with me for a thousand years, hoping, yearning, dreaming of the day I’d accept him as my mate and help him raise his brood. I agreed. We formed mating bonds. Now he will do whatever he must to protect me.”
Vaspara had promised the drakelings she’d be a fiercely protective mother. Now it was time to prove it by surrendering her freedom to save their father “Take me back to the fortress. Lock me in a dark cell. You’ll be able to use me against Sorac. To protect me and the little ones, he’ll do anything you want. Killing him would be a great waste.”
Taryin looked thoughtful, so Vaspara continued. “He’ll train his drakelings in the ways of war. It will be what the Lady of Battles always wanted. He’ll raise as many broods as she allows.”
“It’s true,” Sorac said, joining the conversation. “Keep Vaspara as a slave. Just don’t kill her. I’ll do as the Battle Goddess wishes, breed who and however many females she demands. I’ll raise legion after legion of firedrakes for her to use in her wars. All of them will serve the goddess.”
The blood witch snorted and turned her gaze back to Vaspara “Very well, we will do as you and your firedrake lover suggest. Though after a few centuries trapped in the darkness below the dungeons, you might look back at this day and wish I’d killed you both instead.”
Vaspara knew she’d never regret saving Sorac and their family. It didn’t matter what they did to her, that would never change.
“Harpy, come and collar these two traitors.”
Looking unhappier than Vaspara had ever seen, Bervicta approached Sorac and snapped a collar in place around his neck. Distractedly Vaspara noted it was like the ones Gryton had created to use on the Avatars.
Once Sorac was trapped, Bervicta approached Vaspara next, swiftly securing a collar to her neck.
She smelled and tast
ed the blood witch’s taint as they bound Vaspara’s magic far beyond her reach.
Leaning forward, the harpy brought her lips close to Vaspara’s ear. “I’m sorry. I’ll do all I can to make sure the little ones are well cared for.”
Vaspara didn’t let her expression betray even a hint of the relief she felt at her friend’s words. Harpies were heartless and vicious in many ways, but they were devoted to their young. If Bervicta said she’d do her best to look after the little ones, she would. She’d likely adopt them herself if the Battle Goddess allowed.
“Come. I have been away long enough these past months hunting for you,” Taryin called as she turned her back on them and attended to the waiting portal spell that still glowed with power. “Bring the prisoners and let us return home. I’ve learned much I must tell the Battle Goddess.”
The soldiers formed up. The ones holding the drakelings kept themselves away from Sorac and Vaspara. As Bervicta marched her toward the open portal spell, the djinn caught Vaspara’s attention with a slight bow in her direction.
She met his gaze.
“Succubus, I lacked the opportunity to escape with the drakelings,” the djinn whispered into her mind. “For that, I’ll be eternally sorry, but if it’s any compensation, I managed to shield Mattis and the others. It was the least I could do for their friendship and kindness.”
“Thank you.”
Guilt bled off the djinn. “The portal opened almost on top of the nest. It’s my fault you and the little ones were captured. The blood witch tracked my bottle to this place. I’ll never stop trying to make that right.”
Vaspara believed him.
But she wasn’t given a chance to tell him as much in words, for she was being marched through the portal. Journey’s end would be where she’d started, but this time she’d be a traitor and a prisoner with all the punishments that would bring.
But Sorac and their drakelings would live.
Perhaps after the Avatars returned to the Magic Realm and dealt the Battle Goddess a great defeat, Vaspara would be freed from her dark prison. And if she were lucky, perhaps Sorac would survive, and they’d be granted a chance to fly through the skies together again, their family sailing the thermals with them.
She could hope.
It was the only thing left to her.
The final battle approaches.
Scion of the Sorceress
Gargoyle & Sorceress Tales
Book 8
Lisa Blackwood
Scion of the Sorceress
Scion of the Sorceress
Chapter 1
Gryton
TAPPING ONE TALON-TIPPED finger against his thigh in boredom, Commander Gryton allowed his gaze to slide along the perimeter of his small, clear-sided cell again. Not that there was anything new worth seeing. The spartan area was intentionally devoid of everything that could be turned into a weapon. With a disgruntled sigh, he settled on the narrow pallet that served as a bed.
His captors didn’t trust the Avatars’ word that he was now an ally. Not yet. Perhaps the humans never would fully trust any of the magic wielders, especially him. He gave a mental nod regarding that bit of wisdom. Trust was something too easily betrayed. He fingered the raised skin around his neck, rubbing at the tattooed collar encircling his throat.
And hadn’t he gone to great lengths to gain the Battle Goddess’s trust only to betray her within weeks of meeting his birth mother? With a grunt, he adjusted his position and braced his back against the wall.
As it was prone to do, the garment pulled tight around his neck, pressing against the tattooed slave collar and reminding him of its existence for the hundredth time that day. After a few angry jerks to settle the shirt back into place, he crossed his arms over his chest and glanced down, his frown deepening.
The outfit they had forced him to don after his gargoyle sire had stripped him of his natural protective armor left much to be desired. The dull grey fabric of the ‘t-shirt’ was the blandest tone he’d ever laid eyes on.
And the lower half of the garment?
He shuddered.
The muddy mix of greens reminded him of blight crawling up a doomed tree’s trunk. The design was to help a warrior hide in a forest’s underbrush. And was he in a forest? No.
Though he’d much rather be hiding in the woods, he reflected, than in his present location.
Even mortal servants back in the Battle Goddess’s kingdom possessed better attire and lodgings. As for himself, when he wasn’t covered in his natural plate armor, he’d worn the finest fabrics. The Lady of Battles had liked to remind her subjects they weren’t savages, that living under her rule had many benefits.
He snorted. Not that the benefits outweighed the many life-threatening drawbacks, but if he’d been forced to tell the truth, he’d have to admit that he’d grown to like the luxurious velvets, smooth silks, and the finest of leatherwork.
He’d even admired the expert craftmanship needed to master each bit of gold and silver embroidery and intricate beadwork. His own nature was so chaotic and destructive, the intricate patterns woven into the various fabrics appealed to him on some level he’d never allowed himself to dwell on too long.
Yes, he admitted, more than a bit vain of me.
But there was a pleasure in having one’s outward appearance match the elegance of a disciplined mind and body. And being able to wear such items had been a personal benchmark that he was in control. Mastery over his elemental fire had been a long and bitter fight. In his youth, it had been a battle just to maintain this body. He couldn’t count how many times his power had overwhelmed him, and he’d burned everything around him to ash.
As he glanced down at himself again, his mood darkened further.
He’d betrayed all that discipline. Everything that he’d worked for gone. He’d thrown away the hard-earned respect of the warriors serving under him when he’d agreed to become his mother’s apprentice.
And for what?
Grimacing, he admitted he’d envisioned himself working with his sire and dam in a partnership. Instead, he found himself locked in a box two paces in width.
While the last four days hadn’t been what he’d intended, that didn’t mean he’d always be in this box. He would behave and prove to his parents he was trustworthy. He’d prove it to the humans if that were the only way to escape this box. After he was free, and they defeated the Battle Goddess, he could strike out on his own. The Magic Realm spanned many worlds. He could find a new lair.
He’d barely finished that thought when the sleeping pallet shifted under him, his braced weight shoving it farther from the wall. The back of his skull smacked against the transparent barrier behind him. Cursing, he braced his hands against the floor to prevent himself from sliding farther.
The last thing his ego needed was for him to end up sprawled in an undignified heap.
Grunting, he admitted even the sleeping pallets of the Mortal Realm conspired against him.
And predictably, his infernal ‘t-shirt’ chose that time to strangle him again.
Cursing, he leaped up from the ground and kicked the pallet back in place while simultaneously tearing the shirt from his body. Slinging it against the wall with every bit of disdain he could summon was mildly satisfying.
“That performance deserves a few bills tucked into the waist of a pair of ass-hugging leather pants,” said a female voice possessing a rich, almost husky tone.
The female guard. How had he forgotten about her?
While he didn’t have a clue what she was talking about, by her tone, he knew it was derogatory.
“Did your superiors forget to warn you not to talk to me?” he questioned without turning to face her. “I might steal and eat your soul, Mortal.”
“It was probably covered in the stack of reports they handed out as they were briefing me, but they rushed me here so fast, no one gave me a chance to finish reading even the first page.”
She’d been specially selected to be his guard? His e
yes narrowed. Perhaps she wasn’t human at all?
No. Impossible. He’d have sensed it if she was a magic wielder. The more he thought about it, the stranger it seemed. From the first day, he’d thought it odd and vaguely insulting that they’d only assigned a single guard to him. When the human was off duty, it was always the leshii Greenborrow who took her place.
“Don’t get me wrong,” the female began, “They briefed me on some of what has been going on here. Thought it was bullshit. Ten minutes after I disembarked from the transport, I found myself facing your gargoyle father. Just about jumped out of my skin the first time he materialized out of thin air. Got another swift briefing and was rushed here. But after watching your sullen ass for the last four days, I’m pretty sure you aren’t in any position to be eating souls.”
His back stiffened as a growl formed in his throat. “I was the Commander of the Battle Goddess’s army. Do you know what that—”
“Do I know that you just lost a fight with a t-shirt? Yes. You’re scary as hell.” Sarcasm dripped off the last words.
He tilted his head in the voice's direction but resisted the urge to look over his shoulder at the speaker. He wouldn’t give her that power over him. “You are a mortal, ignorant as all your kind.”
“T-shirt one; evil incarnate none.”
It shouldn’t have been possible, but his mood soured even more. So much so, his expression might almost match what was usually on the female’s face. Against his will, and his better judgment, he turned toward her.
A tall, stocky figure with wide shoulders, a broad chest, thick waist, and muscular hips and thighs stood half in shadow outside the ring of light cast by the fixture hanging over Gryton’s cell. The first time he’d seen the soldier, he’d mistaken her for a male.
In his defense, without his magic and no breeze to carry her scent to him, he’d only had his eyesight to go by, and at the time she’d been covered head to toe in the strange gear the soldiers of this world wore into battle. The helmet, chin strap, and eye protection had covered much of her face, leaving only broad cheekbones, a prominent nose, and square chin to guess a gender.
The Complete Gargoyle and Sorceress Boxset (Books 1-9) Page 158
