Blackbird Broken (The Witch King's Crown Book 2)

by Keri Arthur

  Copyright © 2020 by Keri Arthur

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to real people, alive or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN: 978-0-6487686-0-9

  Created with Vellum

  Blackbird Broken

  Keri Arthur

  With thanks to:

  The Lulus

  Indigo Chick Designs

  Hot Tree Editing

  Debbie from DP+

  Robyn E.

  The lovely ladies from Central Vic Writers

  Jake from J Caleb Designs for the amazing cover

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Untitled

  About the Author

  Also by Keri Arthur

  Chapter One

  Hell’s Gill looked like any other slot canyon. Situated in the northwest sector of the Yorkshire Dales and sharing a border with the Lake District National Park, it was a narrow five-hundred-meter-long slash in the ground, created over the centuries by the clear, cold waters that still ran at its base. Although not particularly deep, it had become a favorite haunt of cavers and scramblers alike, all of whom had no idea that this was one of the most dangerous places on earth.

  Hell’s Gill wasn’t just a slot canyon.

  It happened to host the main entrance into Darkside—a reflection of our world that existed on a different plane.

  It was also the home of demons, dark elves, and who knew what other nasties.

  Though no one these days remembered how, multiple gateways had formed between our plane and theirs. Most of these were considered minor and, until recently, the only demons that came through with any sort of regularity were juveniles seeking to hone their hunting skills. Every gateway was both magically warded and regularly checked, and the witch council in the nearest town was generally responsible for dealing with any incursion.

  The magic protecting the main gateway had never fractured. Not since Uhtric Aquitaine—the last Witch King to hold the great sword of power—had closed it after the last major incursion hundreds of years ago, anyway.

  Unfortunately, all that was about to change. Three hours ago, Mo—who I called my grandmother even though she was centuries older than that—and I had flown over to King’s Island, where Uhtric’s sword had for centuries been encased in stone, and discovered it gone.

  A new king had claimed it.

  One we believed was already in league with Darkside.

  I peered over the edge of the old stone bridge that spanned the Gill. A pool of dark water lay directly below but narrowed into another gorge several meters further on. Vegetation spilled over the edges of the canyon, hiding much of the sides and the water-smoothed cutaways deeper down. Though I couldn’t see the main gate—aside from the fact it was night, it was basically under the bridge and deep within a cavernous cutaway—I could feel the pulse of protective power that emanated from it. It spoke of fierce storms and deep earth, of cindering heat and the violence of the sea—Uhtric’s magic, still in place, still protecting us.

  But for how long?

  I looked up and studied the gently rolling hills of the surrounding area. There was no indication the night held any life, let alone any danger, but that didn’t mean something wasn’t out there. Darkside’s inhabitants were very good at concealment.

  I gripped my two daggers in my claws, then fluttered down to the main section of the bridge and shifted back to human form. The De Montfort line of witches were not only healers able to both give and take life, we were also the only line capable of taking a secondary form—that of a blackbird. Mo had once said this was part of the reason it had become our duty to guard the king’s sword—few ever suspected or even looked for watchers in the sky. Which, given many demons were winged, really didn’t make much sense, especially when—as birds—we had no real capacity to fight.

  Another blackbird soared up from the darkness of the Gill and swung toward me, her dark brown feathers shimmering in the moonlight as the shifting magic crawled over her. Mo landed lightly beside me in human form and shook off the beads of moisture dotting her bright orange coat.

  I leaned back to avoid getting smacked in the face by her long plait of gray hair and then said, “Any indication our new king brought the sword here to test it?”

  “No, and that’s worrying.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’d have thought it would be the first thing he’d do.”

  “Unless he’s well aware we’d be thinking that and has reacted accordingly.”

  As if in response to that statement, something stirred out in the deeper darkness of the night. I scanned the immediate area again. The gently rolling hills remained empty, but I couldn’t escape the growing certainty that something was out there—that someone was watching.

  “Possibly. The bastard’s been one step ahead of us from the get-go.” Mo strode over to the edge of the bridge. Though her right leg was still in a protective boot after she’d fractured it in a fall down the stairs, it really wasn’t hampering her movements in any way these days. “I’m thinking we need to place a wall across the gateway’s entrance.”

  I frowned. “How will that help? He has the damn sword—he can simply blast both your wall and the gateway open.”

  “Not if I build it strong enough. Not without some effort on his part, anyway.”

  “Hate to say this, but he hasn’t exactly had too much trouble unpicking your magic up until this point.”

  “That, my dear Gwen, is because no one fully understood what we were dealing with—”

  “A murderous, bloodthirsty would-be king intent on destroying his rivals, the monarchy, and anyone else who stands in his way, you mean?”

  I kept my voice deliberately light, but heartache nevertheless slipped through me. Two of the people he’d destroyed were my cousins, and both had suffered utterly brutal deaths.

  “Yes.” Just for an instant, something shone in Mo’s blue eyes. Something that spoke of heartache and great sadness.

  It was a stark reminder that she’d lost far more than me—not just over the last few weeks, but also during the long centuries of her life. She’d buried children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and who knew how many others, all because none of them had inherited the so-called god gene that extended her life. In all likelihood, she’d bury both my brother, Max, and me just as she’d buried our parents. Unless, of course, her genes suddenly kicked in and extended our lifespans—and given I hadn’t even inherited the De Montfort ability to heal, that was looking ever more unlikely.

  “However,” she continued softly, “now that we do know, we can react accordingly.”

  “So, what are we going to do?”

  She cast a smile over her shoulder, her eyes shining with power. I’d always known she was capable of far more magic than her De Montfort heritage should have allowed, but it wasn’t until a few days ago that I discovered why. Mo was a mage, and one of only three still alive. Mages differed from witches in that not only did they have a mega-long lifespan,
but they were capable of performing a vast range of spells and had the capacity to harness the power of the earth and the skies. Four other witch houses—there were seven in all—were capable of harnessing an element, be it earth, air, or darkness and light, but the dilution of bloodlines over the centuries now meant there were varying degrees of control. The Aquitaine line of kings could technically manipulate fire, but their main skill set was the ability to syphon energy from all elements—though it was only via the king’s sword that it became a usable weapon against Darkside.

  “I’ll create the wall; you deal with any demons or dark elves that might approach before I’m finished. It should be quite simple, really.”

  I couldn’t help a wry smile. “Yeah, because everything up until now has been absolutely simple.”

  “Well, the law of averages does say we have to strike it lucky sooner or later. Ready?”

  No. I took a deep breath and then nodded.

  “Then let’s get back down there.”

  I frowned. “There’s not a lot of room for fighting at the base of the Gill. Wouldn’t it be better if I remained up here—at least I’ve got more chance of spotting an approach—”

  “Except if they send another warrior demon. You won’t spot them until they’re almost on you.”

  “True, but how likely is—” I cut the sentence off. In truth, getting hit by one of the red-winged bastards was far more likely than being attacked by either foot soldiers or dark elves, as they could get here far faster than the other two. “I’ll follow you down.”

  She shifted shape and disappeared into the Gill’s darkness once again. I studied the surrounding area one more time, then flew down after her.

  Despite the fact that the last few days had been mild by English standards, it was still winter, and the water at the base of the Gill was not only running high, but also damnably cold. It meant the few perching options that existed in summer were currently underwater, leaving me with little choice but to get wet feet. I strapped on my daggers, then waded to the opposite side of the canyon. From there, I could see both upstream and down, while keeping an eye on what Mo was doing. I could also see past her to the far end of the cutaway, where the gateway was situated. I might not be able to actually see it, but I’d feel any disruption to its protective magic and see the shift of shadows if something or someone attacked from that area. When it came to Mo’s safety, I wasn’t about to take a chance. She, my brother, and my cousin Ada were all the family I had left now.

  I tugged off my backpack and hooked it over an outcrop of rock. It held a random selection of potions and charms, most of which wouldn’t do a whole lot against demons. But it also had a first aid kit, and I had a bad feeling we were going to need it.

  Mo’s magic stirred, and the night thrummed with the force of it. If there were indeed demons or even dark elves out there in the shadows beyond the Gill, they’d feel its rise.

  And they would react.

  I flexed my fingers and tried to remain calm. Positioned as we were under the bridge, we were at least protected from a sky assault. To get at us, they’d have to come in from either side and, even then, the canyon’s narrow confines prevented any sort of swamping maneuver.

  Of course, dark elves didn’t need to swamp. They could just unleash their magic. And while some weird twist of genetics had made me immune to magic—this despite the fact shape-shifting was a form of it—Mo wasn’t. Hitting her while she was engaged in raising the wall could have deadly consequences.

  A chill raced across my skin, and I hoped like hell it was born of fear rather than intuition.

  Mo’s wall continued to rise out of the wet stone, an invisible but powerful force that gradually crept upward. Though she’d trained me to see and understand both the construction and purpose of spells, I couldn’t read this. It was something I’d never seen before; something that came from the elemental portion of her mage powers, rather than magical.

  From the depths of the canyon to my left came a whisper of noise. It was nothing more than a splash of water and, had it been day, I might have put it down to fish jumping. But it was night, and the feeling we were no longer alone continued to grow. I gripped the hilts of the daggers, ready to draw them, my gaze searching the shadows, looking for the threat that was still too far away to pin down.

  I took a deep breath and released it slowly. It didn’t do a whole lot to ease the gathering tension, but then, it rarely did.

  I glanced back at Mo. Her shimmering wall was almost at the halfway point. But sweat now trickled down the side of her face, and her cheeks were starting to gain that gaunt look that said she was pushing her limits.

  Another splash, this time accompanied by a soft scraping sound. Someone—or something—had slipped and hit the edge of a rock.

  I drew Vita and Nex. White lightning crawled down the sides of both daggers, a clear indication that what approached was demonic in nature.

  My grip tightened, and from deep within the hilt of each dagger came an answering pulse of power. The two blades—whose names literally meant life and death—were ready for action. De Montforts these days might be little more than healers and potion makers, but we’d once been warriors who could both give and take life; daggers such as these had been the means through which the deadly side of that power had been channeled. I’d once thought it inaccessible to me for anything more than a brief defense, but when I’d destroyed the red demon that had been carrying the Darkside witchling aloft, I’d forged a deep connection with both blades.

  It was a connection that came at a cost, of course, but then, all truly powerful magic did.

  Another scrape. Tension wound through me as the lightning pulsing down Nex’s sides strengthened. She was eager to taste the blood of those who approached …

  I took another of those useless deep breaths and glanced across the Gill. Mo’s wall had gained another few centimeters. I doubted she’d finish the thing before our attackers got here.

  Another sound bit through the night—not the scrape of claws against stone this time, but rather the throaty roar of a vehicle approaching at speed. It was some distance away, but I couldn’t help wondering if it was our rogue heir. Perhaps he’d sent his new allies here to secure the area before his arrival. It’d make as much sense as anything else that had happened recently.

  The light pulsing down Nex’s side increased frequency. The demons were getting closer, even though I still had no sense of them.

  I risked another glance at Mo. Her wall was higher, but sweat now darkened her silver hair, and her breath was a harsh rattle that sang across the night. If not for the roar of that engine, it would have alerted the demons to our presence.

  Though there was every chance they already knew, especially given the stealthy manner in which they were approaching.

  Part of me wished they’d just attack and get it over with. I hated waiting.

  The ever-growing closeness of that engine drowned out all other sounds, leaving me with only the energy pulse in Nex’s steel as an indicator of the demons’ growing closeness. I flexed my fingers on her hilt, more to allow the cool air to caress my palm than to ease the tension.

  Mo’s magic reached toward a peak. She was close, so close, to finishing.

  Maybe lady luck was on our side tonight. Maybe we could fly out of here before the demons arrived—

  The roar of the engine faded as the car moved further away, and silence crept back. Silence, and anticipation.

  They knew we were here.

  I flexed my fingers again, trying to remain calm. While I couldn’t see them, I could now feel them. Smell them. Their ashy, acidic scent flooded the air, and they were no longer making any effort to conceal their presence. And there were at least a dozen of them approaching.

  Fuck.

  I pushed away from the wall and walked into the center of the canyon. Defensively it wasn’t a smart move, but I needed those demons to concentrate on me rather than Mo. No matter what else happened, I had to give he
r time to finish her wall. The fate of life on earth might well depend upon it.

  White lightning flicked from the sharp points of both daggers now, sizzling lightly as it hit the water. Steam rose, curling around my legs, a gentle fog that in no way hid my form. I waited, my heart pounding so fiercely it felt like it was about to tear out of my chest. They were close now. So damn close.

  Then the darkness shifted and a scaly brown shadow launched at me. I held my ground, waiting, as it arrowed through the air, reaching for me with brutally sharp claws. At the last possible moment, I dropped low, raised Nex, and sliced the bastard open from neck to genitals. As the black rain of his blood and guts fell all around me and his body flopped lifelessly into the water behind, I pushed upright and waited for the next attack. It was tempting, so very tempting, to unleash the combined power of the daggers and cinder the whole unseen lot of them, but I’d only just recovered from the effort of killing the red bastard, and I had no idea what sort of toll unleashing the daggers so soon after that would have on me. Better to wait and only use it as a last means of survival.

  There was no immediate response from the narrow darkness of the slot ahead. No sound to indicate they were still on the move. Either they were waiting to see what my next move was or they were deciding whether it was feasible to sneak up on me from the other side of the bridge.

  I shifted stance so that I was slightly side-on and able to see both ahead and behind.

  Mo, I noted, was almost finished. A few more minutes was all she needed …

  With a roar that echoed across the night, the demons attacked. Not just one or two, but at least a dozen of them. They rushed from both sides of the canyon, their claws and yellowed tusks glinting in the fractured, eager light being emitted by both daggers. I swore and attacked, twisting and slashing, cutting fingers and arms and legs. Sliced faces and chests, dodging and weaving as best I could in the slippery confines of the beck. And still they came at me, a never-ending flow of stinking, bleeding scaly flesh.