Sorceress Rising (A Gargoyle and Sorceress Tale Book 2)

by Lisa Blackwood

  No, they were not lost. Just crawling along at a snail’s pace, with a good two kilometers to still walk before they would reach the spa and her maze, where she’d left Gregory sleeping.

  How could she have been so stupid? Her instincts had tried to warn her, but she’d rationalized it as paranoia.

  The unicorn came to a halt, his ears twitching forward in question. His skin shivered, but he made no other comment or explanation. Burying her fear for Gregory deeper, she called on her gargoyle senses and closed her eyes.

  The night’s sounds intensified around her and she sorted them out. Over the buzz of insects, the chirps of frogs, and the cries of the night birds she detected a soft crackle of static to the left of her position.

  Without comment, the three of them silently moved toward the sound. The unicorn led the way, with Gran a step behind. Lillian followed several steps farther back to better scan the night.

  Her nails burned and itched with the need to lengthen and sharpen as the unknown threat weighed on her consciousness. She fought the urge to shift. Partially because Gran had warned her she’d heal too quickly, and partly because she’d only tried to shape shift in Gregory’s presence.

  But she didn’t need to fully shape shift to use her gargoyle senses, and when they came upon the source of the static, the five shadowy shapes slumped on the ground at random intervals were easy to recognize. It was less easy to determine at a glance what had taken down an entire patrol without a shot being fired. There was no death or blood scent and when she calmed her own harsh breathing, she was able to hear the steady slow breaths and the throb of beating hearts. They were merely sleeping. Well, perhaps there was nothing ‘merely’ about their sleep, but they were alive.

  “Tethys’ work,” Gran said, answering Lillian’s unasked question. “If she was here for a peaceful purpose, she wouldn’t randomly leave bodies just strewn about, which tells us she isn’t worried about fallout from the humans, likely because she intends to make sure they aren’t a problem.”

  A radio crackled again, drawing all their attention toward it.

  Gran cursed. “Let’s go. They’re bound to be missed soon.” She directed a frown out into the surrounding forest. “There might already be others out looking for them.”

  Lillian glanced back the way they had come. “Then they are bound to see our tracks.”

  Gran shrugged. “Something to look forward to later, should we survive.” On that comforting note she started off through the forest at a faster pace. Lillian and the unicorn followed after a quick glance at each other.

  ****

  They found more human patrols and a number of Fae sleeping peacefully under the trees. All attempts to wake the Fae proved pointless. Their efforts didn’t even elicit a sleepy grumble. And Lillian realized Tethys’s enchantment put her victims in a state closer to a coma than natural sleep. “How can we undo this?”

  Gran gave Lillian a sharp look. “A siren’s enchantments die with her.”

  Lillian took it to mean it was up to them to find a way to defeat Tethys by any means necessary.

  But can I kill?

  When she’d been attacked by the Riven, she’d defended herself, killing many of her enemies, but it had been the work of the demon seed protecting its host as much as Lillian’s own fortitude. And the Riven were more dead than alive by her judgment. If those Riven hosts had been still alive and aware—she’d probably done them a favor by destroying them.

  Images of the helpless inert forms of humans and Fae flashed against the back of her eyelids. They would be such easy pickings if the Riven should happen upon them. And then there was an image of Gregory, how she’d left him sleeping on his stone pedestal, weakened from all the spells he’d been casting these last few days. Tethys had reached out, daring to touch Gregory as he slept.

  Could I take the siren’s life?

  ‘Yes,’ she thought, ‘for Gregory and everyone else I love.’

  With that acknowledgment like a promise burning in her heart, she followed Gran out of the forest and into the gardens surrounding the spa.

  As they walked the garden pathways, the gravel underfoot the only noise betraying their passage, they came upon more sleeping victims, these a mix of Fae, military, and a good hundred human civilians.

  Ah. The masquerade. What a disaster her clever idea had become. Now magic had spilled across into the mundane world. Lillian eyed the sleeping people. The siren must be stopped tonight, for dawn would come and reveal far too much to human eyes.

  Lillian came around a sharp turn in the path and nearly ran into the pooka. To her surprise, he was still on his feet.

  He stood with his head bowed low, hooves planted firmly and tail hanging limp. He didn’t so much as flick an ear at their approach, but when she laid a hand on his side, he rolled a dull yellow eye in her direction.

  Gregory had told her both unicorns and pookas possessed a natural ability to see past deceptions. Perhaps it gave the pooka a slight immunity to the siren’s magic.

  After patting his shoulder, she allowed her hand to rest on his withers hoping her small gesture could give him some comfort. “No one enslaves my family or friends. I’ll get you free. I promise.”

  Her words might be a common turn of phrase, but the emotions and fortitude behind them were genuine.

  Gran tapped her on the shoulder. “Come, we have a siren to discipline, a gargoyle to extract and the night isn’t getting any younger.” Gran sighed a humorless laugh. “And neither am I, but villains seem not to care about those kinds of details.”

  “And all before dawn,” added the unicorn in a tone Lillian interpreted as ominous.

  “Yes,” Gran whispered. “Because if we haven’t freed Gregory by then, he might be too deeply ensnared for us to free him without help.

  “Who the hell is left to help?” Lillian asked more sharply than she’d intended.

  Gran gave her a pinched look and pulled an amulet on a chain from around her neck. She hesitated before handing it over to Lillian. It was surprisingly heavy and still warm from Gran’s skin. Actually, it felt too warm, as if it gave off its own heat.

  When Gran motioned to put it on, Lillian did, looping it over her head and then smoothed her hair back in place, all the while giving her grandmother a questioning look.

  “No matter what else happens, neither you nor Gregory can remain under the siren’s control. She must never possess such power. It will start a war with the humans; it might even tip the scales in the Lady of Battles’ favor if the Fae are forced to battle the humans. War and chaos make her stronger. And I don’t even care to speculate what the Riven might try while our attention is drawn elsewhere. Smear three drops of your blood upon the amulet and it will summon your last allies, and no, I can’t tell you more. The less you know, the less you can tell Tethys if you should be captured. She may already have Gregory under her power.”

  Lillian scowled, seeing a problem with her logic. “Why give me the amulet, then?”

  “Because I doubt I’ll escape the siren’s attentions either. The best we can hope for is to confuse her if we all attack at once. We’ll need to sneak into the cottage and secure some of those weapons Gregory and the sidhe metalsmiths have been working on. We might get lucky and land a good shot. Then, if luck is still with us, you might be able to wake Gregory and finish off the siren. Or if all goes south, escape with him.”

  We’re so screwed, Lillian whispered in the recesses of her own mind, to Gran she said, “Now there’s a scary number of ‘ifs’ to overcome.”

  “Yes, and it’s the best plan I’ve got. Tethys is one of the oldest of her kind. She’ll be a difficult adversary to fight, because how does one fight one’s own deepest desires. And mark my words, she’ll use your heart’s wish against you.”

  “Great,” Lillian mumbled as she followed Gran deeper into the gardens in the direction of the cottage.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Sneaking into the cottage proved surprisingly easy. But
then again, stealth wasn’t a problem when no other soul was awake to see you, Lillian supposed. Her second greatest fear—that the siren might be holed up somewhere inside the cottage—proved false as well. The house was silent, deserted in a way it hadn’t been in days. For the first time in her life, the old stone cottage offered no homey reassurance.

  “We’ve been storing the spell-warded weapons below in the wine cellar,” Gran explained. She crossed the kitchen and unlocked a side door, which opened onto a narrow set of stairs leading down to the cellar.

  Lillian followed close on Gran’s heels. She called on her gargoyle senses once again, and the dimly lit stairwell became much easier to see. They continued along the rows of wooden shelves with their cargo of quality wines, which stocked the family spa in normal times. They filed past the wood shelves and Lillian found herself in a far back corner of the cellar. The dingy little alcove was devoid of anything of interest, so she’d never had reason to venture over to this part of the cellar.

  Gran, however, grabbed the edge of the dumpy little table leaning against one wall and started to move it. The legs dragged on the stone floor and made a painful sound.

  Lillian winced at the appalling noise, then looked up at the rafters and cocked her head to listen. Nothing responded to the noise, and she released the breath she’d been holding. While she’d been worrying about something coming up their back trail, Gran had gone ahead and pushed against what had looked like just another section of wall.

  But this wall made a grating sound as it swung open into a black abyss. Gran shoved her shoulder against the door a second time and opened it a bit farther. With a muttered curse, she groped around in the darkness. After half a minute, there was a hum and a flickering of harsh light as rows of fluorescent lights sputtered to life.

  Under the cold light of the fluorescents, a large room Lillian hadn’t even known existed was revealed. She drew another sharp breath, but only had a moment to marvel at all Gregory’s hard work. Knowing he’d been enchanting weapons for days on end was one thing, seeing the hundreds of them was something else altogether. Her eyes swiftly picked out the shapes of swords, shields, daggers, spears, crossbows, and yes, those were longbows resting against one wall. Their beautiful, elegant carved wood shafts so much more striking than the practical compound bow her uncle had taught her to use over a number of hunting expeditions. Thanks to Gran, she’d even had a few seasons’ worth of practice on a crossbow.

  “Here,” Gran said as she shoved first a crossbow and then a wooden longbow into her hands. “Hold these for me.”

  Lillian did, and followed Gran around the room until they were both laden with knives and enough arrows and bolts to do some serious damage.

  “One more thing before we go,” Gran said as she made her way over to a long low table. There she pulled a couple lengths of fabric from a basket and brought them over to Lillian. “Gregory was working on these for you. I think he planned them as a gift. The beading isn’t finished yet, but they are functional.”

  There was a soft rustle of fabric and the gentle clank of beads as Gran handed the bundle to her. She unfolded it to see one item was a beaded loincloth similar to what Gregory wore and the other was a long scarf-like construction. With a bit of wrapping, it could be secured into a top of sorts, one which looped up over her neck, crisscrossed over her breasts, and tied behind her waist. It wouldn’t interfere with her wings when she was in gargoyle form.

  She ran a thumb over the soft fabric and tiny beadwork. Sudden moisture gathered in the corners of her eyes and she had to swallow past a lump in her throat. Gregory had been working himself to exhaustion each day, but he still took the time to make this gift for her because she’d asked.

  “Here,” Gran said, “I’ll take the longbow.”

  It was probably for the best, since Lillian doubted she possessed enough skill to effectively aim one of those deadly weapons with any accuracy. The crossbow suited her better.

  She donned the clothing Gregory had been making for her with a quick efficiency. And then as silently as they had come, they left the secret room and made their way back up to the outside world where the unicorn waited in the gardens behind the house.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Lillian tightened her hold on the heavy crossbow as she stepped under the shadow of the maze. It was darker inside, the newly risen moon’s light not reaching the ground within. She made her way using memory and touch, and still it seemed an age until she reached the maze’s center. Worry for Gran and the unicorn didn’t help.

  When the maze had first become visible in the distance, Gran had ordered them to split up and breach the maze using a three-prong tactic. They were each to make their way to the center, searching for traps along the way. Once there, they would await Gran’s signal and all attack together, or if the situation inside made it too dangerous, Gran and the unicorn would draw the siren’s attention to give Lillian a chance to escape with Gregory.

  Not liking the part where Gran and the unicorn might sacrifice their own freedom, Lillian had bristled at Gran’s plan, but realized there might not be another choice if any of them were to escape.

  No one said she had to like the plan. She just had to pull off her part and not fail Gran.

  She scanned the central glade while still hidden by the shadows of the maze. The clearing was more than wide enough to allow moonlight to bath the small glade in its soft radiance. Lillian took an immediate dislike to what she saw.

  Arranged in a semi-circle in front of Gregory, with their backs to Lillian, a mixed group of Fae stood unmoving. They might as well have been as stone-like as Gregory. Some she recognized; Greenborrow and Whitethorn were two, but the others were strangers or triggered only a vague recollection in her.

  She’d only met a handful of the Fae before she’d nearly died twice, once at the hands of the Riven, the second time by an axe wielded by a fellow dryad named Sable. Having slept for three months while she healed, now felt more like three years. Many more Fae had joined them while she and Gregory slept, further compounding the problem of trying to keep everyone straight in her head.

  Now she really missed the knowledge, and most especially what powers those unknown Fae might command. Even if she hadn’t considered Greenborrow and Whitethorn family friends, she still wouldn’t have left them to their fate.

  It chaffed at something deep in her soul. It was doubly so to think of Gregory enslaved.

  Her blood drummed in her ears and tingles rushed across her skin, raising gooseflesh in its wake. It wasn’t until her claws prickled against her own palms that she drew a calming breath and hauled back on her runaway emotions. Gran had specifically said not to take gargoyle form until absolutely necessary. Her grandmother had yet to steer her wrong.

  With a mental shake, the last of the wildness bled from her body, and her thick black claws returned to the soft pink, useless nails of a human.

  Now another worry inched up her spine—where the hell was Gran and the unicorn? Had they been captured? She hadn’t heard even the slightest noise to hint at a skirmish. Maybe the other route was blocked or guarded in some way and Gran and the unicorn were both forced to double back to Lillian’s position?

  Well, she might as well see what she could learn while she waited for any sign of her companions.

  From the sheltering dark of her cedar maze, she scanned the small assembly again. Her eyes briefly settled on Gregory, and then behind him to her redwood, and the large expanse of pure darkness at its base. Moonlight couldn’t penetrate its dense foliage, and there might be twenty more Fae hiding in those shadows.

  Seeing no other choice, Lillian reached for the otherness she associated with her gargoyle bloodlines, the same wildness she’d just pushed away, needing it now. Left to her own terms, she wouldn’t be controlled by it.

  Closing her eyes, she listened. The night noises sharpened. Crickets, frogs, the hoot of a Great Horned Owl, and even the splash of water as the stream cascaded down the small ser
ies of flagstones functioning as a tiny waterfall in the north end of the clearing—all these things reached her ears, making her straining senses tingle.

  She filtered all the natural noise out like Gregory had shown her. Now the deep throb of the statue-like Faes’ heartbeats reached her ears, and the soft hiss of their breath. Otherwise the clearing seemed empty of threats, but she doubted it was as innocent as it looked.

  Lillian crept forward, muscles tense and senses on high alert as she made her way across the clearing toward Gregory. There was no point in attempting stealth, it would do her little good if she was walking into a trap. She was halfway to Gregory when water surged against stone, disturbing the peaceful night. Frogs and crickets grew silent even as Lillian sought the source of the disturbance.

  Her gaze slid to the north end of the clearing, where the largest of the otherwise tiny waterfalls dropped down into a pool stocked with water lilies and goldfish. The surface moved in an unnatural way for several more seconds, then a head and shoulders emerged through the covering of water lily leaves.

  The woman, for it was unmistakably a woman rising partway out of the pool, her bare breasts easy to make out in the moonlight, brushed back strands of damp hair from her face.

  Lillian spotted several lines running down her neck, the last ending at the curve of her shoulder. They fluttered and expelled water. If the gills hadn’t been enough to tell her this was indeed the siren, the great fan-shaped tail jutting from the surface of the water about five feet from her shoulders was a dead giveaway.

  The Fae pulled herself up onto the rocks at the edge of the pool. She made no other move. Merely watching Lillian.

  The being in the pool looked nothing like the woman who called herself Tethys, but she felt the same, especially the strong current of power against Lillian’s skin. After a moment, she identified what it reminded her of. An undertow, the ocean’s power far inland from where it would naturally exist, but still recognizable all the same.