by Tim Marquitz
“Follow them,” the Green Witch shouted. Her voice cracked at the end as she pointed off after the fleeing decoys, not bothering to give specific directions as to which group to follow.
Sebastian smiled, once more reminded of how accurate his father’s predictions were. Having spent many years fighting against the witches and then amongst them, Darius had an unexpected amount of knowledge as to their movements and nature. It had been his job, however forced, to teach the soldiers proper martial discipline so the Red Guard might continue in their conquests. His father had resisted, passing on only the most rudimentary of tactical functions to the soldiers, teaching them specific regimens in the hopes he might one day lead an army against them. He doubted this was the grand force his father had intended.
Shade, however, was not as predictable as the rest. As the Green Witch raced ahead to follow after the doppelgangers, the assassin slowed and remained behind, staying a distance away from the main group. Her eyes searched the trees. While she had stumbled upon the camp as expected, she must have known deep down something wasn’t right. She hadn’t warned the witch or soldiers, but she prowled forward with a tentative uncertainty that might ruin everything. It was probably only moments before she determined the truth of what her instincts told her.
Sebastian knew he had to do something before she caught wind of the trap. Only vague arrangements made between him and his father, the plan fluid enough to allow for both likely and unexpected events. Darius would adapt to whatever happened as it did. The original idea was to separate the witches and Shade from one another. With the Green Witch doing their work for them, the White Witch nowhere to be seen, and Shade well back at the rear, behind the small force of Red Guard that had accompanied them, Sebastian felt he had the best opportunity he would get.
Rather than close in behind the Green Witch as was expected of him, he waited, letting her and the soldiers get further away as Shade drew closer. He knew not to move, the assassin’s senses on high alert. She would notice were Sebastian to get anxious. He sat in silence as she crept on, waiting agonizing seconds as she moved toward his hiding space. Her blades were in her hands, each hand poised to deliver a blow. Sebastian waited just another moment, knowing she would be ready for an attack from behind or at her flanks, so he stayed frozen until she was nearly on him. With her directly in front, the very last place she would ever imagine an ambush coming from, Sebastian lashed out.
He drew his blade and lunged forward in a single motion. As he’d expected, Shade heard him at the very last instant, and out of trained instinct, she pivoted, expecting the attack from somewhere other than straight ahead. She didn’t realize where Sebastian was until he was upon her.
Despite the effectiveness of the surprise, she managed to shift away. His attack struck her right arm rather than her chest, where he had aimed, but the blow landed clean. The sword cut through her biceps, nearly severing it in half. Shade shrieked and stumbled away as her arm dropped to her side, blood spewing from the mangled strips of meat that flapped like red banners with her every motion.
Though Sebastian knew he’d crippled her, he understood a warrior like Shade was dangerous as long as a single breath still swirled in her lungs. He stayed on her, hoping to bring her down before the witch and Red Guard could return to help.
He slashed at her throat, attempting to draw her off with a feint, but even down to her off-hand, she made the parry look easy. He pressed forward, dictating the pace, forcing her to work as the blood spilled from her wound. Their swords clashed and Sebastian could hear distant shouts, panic and fury in their voices. The Red Guard was coming back.
Sebastian growled and pushed ahead, Shade easily his equal in swordsmanship, even with her left. Though she could not wrest control of the fight away, or stop him from backing her up, she effectively blocked every blow, reading him as though he were a novice. He glanced to see the quicksilver rot as it ate at her wound, the sword’s fury running rampant through her veins, but she held strong. His opportunity was fading away fast.
He couldn’t let that happen.
For all her skill, she only had one arm. Sebastian put all of his strength into his attack, steel and silver crashing into one another. A memory of youth running rampant in his mind, he closed on her, pushed hard into her sword, and released his as he ducked beneath the locked blades, ramming his head into her stomach.
He’d pulled the move once on his father, many years back, the sheer absurdity of it allowing it to succeed the first, and only, time. It was nothing a sane fighter with a respect for his life would ever do. The insanity of it worked against Shade, as well, and he only needed the once.
The breath huffed from her mouth as Sebastian wrapped his arms around her waist and drove her to the ground. He twisted her about in mid-fall, making sure her sword side struck first, all of his weight wedged into her armpit and against her chest. The blade bounced from her hand as they struck the moist humus, Sebastian driving the top of his head into her chin.
He heard the clack of her teeth, and a deep groan slipped from her mouth as he pressed down with all his strength. Down an arm, her mouth held away from him, Shade could only attack with her left. A true fighter, she did her best, never stopping in her efforts. Ineffective punches rained against his forehead as he tightened his grip around her neck and shoulder. He felt her buck beneath him as soon as he swung his legs to her side, Shade clearly realizing what he intended.
By then, it didn’t matter. It was already too late.
His arms locked, his full weight pinning her to the ground, there was nothing she could do to stop the inevitable. The arteries at her neck being squeezed tight by his arm on one side and her own shoulder on the other, she twitched beneath him, frantically trying to shake him off before the blood flow to her brain ceased. Her resistance lasted only seconds. She went limp without ceremony, her good arm falling to curl lifeless across the dirt.
Though Sebastian could hear the Red Guard storming through the trees, he held on, squeezing even tighter. There was no chance Shade could fake unconsciousness in the hopes of tricking him into letting her go, but he wanted to be sure she wouldn’t get back up once he was forced to release her. He clutched her to him for as long as he dared, knowing even if she did survive the lack of blood to her brain, and eventually returned to wakefulness, she would never again be a threat. The longer the blood remained cut off, the less likely she would regain the full function of her mind. The damage done would be irreparable.
Finally, Sebastian flung her limp form aside and reclaimed his sword as the first of the Red Guard came at him. His arms tingling from the unexpected grappling, he was forced to parry a couple of blows before he could deliver one of his own. The soldier fell away when he did, crimson rain spilling from his mouth.
Sebastian spun away into the trees to slow the others who charged after him, angry shouts ringing in his ears for what he’d done to Shade. The soldiers came at him without mercy, but it did them little good. Their numbers forced into narrow lines by the terrain, they might as well have killed themselves. One by one, Sebastian cut his way through the Red Guard, marveling at how well the location had worked out. Dead bodies cluttered in the gaps between the trees, adding another obstacle to slow the soldiers’ advance while allowing him to set an easy pace.
Griffins screeched as they flew over the treetops, but no new soldiers dropped into the woods, the thickness of the gnarled canopy making it impossible for the men above to see what transpired below. They were blind to their compatriots who lay dying beneath them.
Not having even bothered to will a shield into place, none of the Red Guard coming close to doing him harm, Sebastian broke into a humorless grin when he smelled the expected scent of brimstone amidst the metallic tang of blood. It had all been too easy.
He slipped behind a pile of corpses as the first fiery attack raged past. The Guard stopped their advance as it exploded beside them, pulling back to let the witch take the lead.
Unlike the
Red Witch, the Green drew forward without bluster. She didn’t threaten or boast; she simply walked toward him, ready to do battle. For all Sebastian’s confidence, born on the back of Shade’s defeat, it was an intimidating sight.
Her black hair was pulled behind her head, out of her face, making her look like a hawk in search of its prey. The dark pools of her eyes regarded him as he darted about behind a knot of trees. She kept him in sight, letting loose bolts of fire as she tried to cut off his retreat. Foliage went up in flames around him. Another few moments and she would have succeeded in her efforts.
Sebastian couldn’t let her block him in. His advantage was movement. Once that was gone, he was dead. He willed his shield to the front and felt his magic resist. It was like willing a boulder to roll up a hill, his power only coming alive at the very last instant. He charged through the wall of fire the witch had created. The heat lapped at him, reflected off his weakened shield. He broke through the other side, unharmed. She clearly didn’t intend to let him go that easily.
Still closing, the witch sprayed the canopy with fire, the green roof engulfed in the flames, leaves and branches being consumed at an unnatural pace. Sebastian realized what she was doing. She was clearing the way for reinforcements and signaling her location, all at once.
Time turning against him, the treetops going up in reddish-orange flames, he spun on his heels and charged, hoping to intimidate her. The Green Witch smiled, fiery sparks dancing at her fingers. She stood her ground.
Twenty-Seven
Hardly rested from her short stay among the resistance, Emerald trudged awkwardly alongside Elizabeth Bourne. With no horses, the creatures said to be more likely to give them away with their noise than help, the group moved slow through the forest. Dozens of pregnant young girls waddled alongside her, a kindred mass of sympathetic spirit. Elizabeth kept an illusory shield overtop to keep the Red Guard from spotting them. Her eyes were glassy as she concentrated, Freya and Karil at her side to keep her from losing her balance.
The aches and pains of her earlier journey having returned to plague her, Emerald hoped the camp would find a safe place to light, and soon. Her feet throbbing and blistered, she had pulled the dagger Victor had given her from her boot and slipped it through the back of her waistband early in the trip. That only made her back stiffen, so she’d placed it in the small bag Elizabeth’s people had given her, along with a few supplies she might need. After a while, that too became too much of a burden. She was grateful when one of the resistance men offered to carry it for her. She let it go without a thought.
She was in no shape to stomp about Mynistiria, lugging a pack, fleeing the approaching Red Guard soldiers every few days. If this was what resistance life was about, Emerald thought she might let Elizabeth nullify her magic, and sneak off to have her son in peace somewhere far beyond the reach of both the resistance and her mother. She could live without her power, but she couldn’t imagine living without the child growing in her belly.
A smile flickered at her lips and she breathed a quiet sigh. She would be a mother soon, and would show her child all the love she’d never known until she found Victor. Her hand going to her stomach without thought, her smile grew wider when she felt the warmth of it. She wanted nothing more than Elizabeth to tear down the Council and free the world from the tyranny of her mother and fellow witches who would bleed her child to extend their own lives but a few, miserable years.
Her smile washed away, she felt her anger growing, her cheeks burning. The subtle drift of brimstone crept into her nose and her fury faded in an instant. Fearful she’d summoned her power to the fore, she clamped down upon her will only to realize it hadn’t been her. She glanced to Elizabeth and saw her stumble to a stop, eyes wide. Karil and Freya looked about with panic as the camouflage shield above faded away. They all sniffed the air.
Among the trees ahead, Emerald was the first to spy the source of the magic, her mother standing bold before them. Scattered within the woods, to her side, were the leering faces of the Red Guard; hundreds of them, weapons drawn and clearly eager to advance.
“I should have known I would find my daughter entrenched amidst the enemy,” the White Witch said, her tone as fiery as the flames that flickered at her fingers.
Elizabeth took a step back, her own magic coming to life in her hands.
“Did you think I wouldn’t recognize a mobile camouflage ward when I came across it, Elizabeth? I taught you the damn spell, woman, though I must admit I’d never imagined hiding an army beneath it.” She laughed, turning her gaze to Emerald. “And you, child…I’d wondered why you ran away, but now I see what’s become of you. It’s a boy in your belly, I imagine, otherwise you’d have not given up the soft life of Corilea during such a difficult time.”
“You’ll not have my son!” Emerald glared at her mother. She reached down and touched the core of her power, keeping it at bay, but readying it nevertheless. She would not let her mother take her child from her, not even if it meant both of their lives. The dagger Victor had given her was in her bag, and out of easy reach, so her magic was all she had. She backed away slow, hoping to reach the dagger with the resistance man who stood a few yards away.
“Stay where you stand, Emerald,” her mother commanded. “You’ll be returning with me. Your flight has ended and you will pay the consequences for your defiance, but I’ve another witch to deal with first.”
The Red Guard oozed forward, the forest all around erupting with soldiers and naked steel. Elizabeth looked about as she, too, crept backward toward the mass of her people. Emerald could see the fear in her eyes and all the hopes of the woman conquering the Council fell to dust at the sight. She was a coward, playing at queen among the peasants too foolish to know any better.
Emerald hung her head, knowing there was but one choice to be made. Without Victor here to rescue her, she must stand for herself. She touched the power inside just as Elizabeth drew alongside her. She couldn’t bring herself to look at the woman, her disappointment and disgust a knot that caught in her throat and diverted her eyes.
A moment after the resistance witch moved past, Emerald wished she had spared a glance.
Elizabeth stepped up behind her and wrapped her arm about Emerald’s throat, her other hand reaching around and hovering just above her round belly, the flames close enough to sting the skin through the thin cloth of her tunic.
“Let me pass, Deborah, or I will burn the life from your daughter,” Elizabeth called out. Emerald gasped, unable to wrench free of the woman’s grasp.
The White Witch snarled and waved to the soldiers, halting them. “You go too far, witch. Release my child and let us settle this, you and I, once and for all.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “I go free or I end the line of Altus, here and now, both mother and babe in womb.” She inched her hand closer to Emerald’s stomach. “The choice is yours, Deborah.”
Twenty-Eight
The Green Witch willing to meet his advance, Sebastian realized the charge was a mistake. He veered off behind a cluttered strand of trees, hoping to confuse her with his sudden redirection. She only moved to the side to keep him in view, cleaving through the air before him with a scythe of fire. He backpedaled to avoid the flames and darted back the way he’d come. To his dismay, she was ready for that, as well.
Another burst of magical energy ripped past him, and he barely managed to throw up his shield to deflect it. Though his wounds were mostly healed, the pain gone, he had yet to truly rest since his fight with the Red Witch. He could feel his weariness weighing upon his power, making it sluggish in his veins. As slow as it came to bear, she would tear through his defenses were she to strike a direct blow. Of that he was certain.
The curse of the warlock, sacrificing control for power, would soon be the cause of his death. He had burned himself out, willing his magic beyond its limits, and now, it had failed him.
Sebastian feinted left and darted right, trying to close the distance before the witch cou
ld target him again. His magical defenses uncertain, he fell back on his martial training. Though the move bought him a few heartbeats of time, she lined him up once more. Her finger trailed his path toward her. He ran, staying low, doing his best to throw her aim off. The feeling of stones in his stomach told him he didn’t think he did enough. Flames erupted from her hand.
The thrumming twang of a crossbow made his heart leap. His father had joined them, at last.
The witch spun to face the sound, her gout of fire whipping around with her. The bolt grazed her hip. Blood sprayed and she was flung about, the strike amplifying the momentum of her spin. The branches above caught fire as she fell to her back, and the flames died at her hands as she rolled to get back to her feet.
Sebastian was beside her before she could.
Without hesitation, he thrust his sword at her face. The witch jerked her head away, six inches of his sword sinking into her chest, just below the collarbone. The Green Witch screeched and bucked as the blade sheathed inside her flesh. She whipped her body sideways to tear the sword loose, and crumpled to the ground as soon as it ripped free. Her back to him, Sebastian lifted his blade to finish her off.
His father’s cry stopped him mid-swing.
He looked up to see Darius stumbling forward, a red waterfall spilling from his shoulder, down over his chest. His crossbow slipped from his fingers, his arm limp at his side.
Sebastian ran toward him as a massive shape stepped out of the woods behind his father. He recognized the Lord of the Hunt instantly. Darius stumbled forward a step, then another, and fell face first with a grunt. The Lord stepped over top of him, a crooked smile shining behind his beard.
Sebastian shouted as the Lord raised his great, double-bladed axe. The man met Sebastian’s eyes as the blade dropped to land with a meaty thunk in Darius’ back.
