Witch-born

by A. J. Maguire

  The man was startled enough that he hadn't been able to defend himself. Artimus dropped Elsie, stumbling back and away from them. Dorian registered the fact that she had fallen half on top of him, but he was still mostly unable to feel his body. He watched as Artimus pressed a hand to his wound, glared at them both and took off.

  Everything felt heavy.

  He finally noticed that there was a hand stuck in his chest.

  Grabbing the limb he yanked, tearing it away from his body and throwing it to the side. His Magic was silent. Under normal circumstances he would be able to feel it thrumming throughout his body, originating at his core, whispering warnings and such to him. The Dellidus had managed to sever that connection - at least for the time being.

  This posed a huge problem given that he could not heal himself or Elsie without it.

  Elsie.

  His head lolled as he tried to face her better. The mere act of breathing jolted pain through his body, but he struggled onto one elbow. His vision blurred and he made a dizzy attempt at smoothing her hair away from her face. She did not respond. He shoved his hand under her nose and tried to feel for her breathing. This was a futile act since he couldn't really feel his fingers in order to test for this. He managed to roll her over and was struck by the sight.

  Artimus's garrote had done quick work. Her throat was raw, bleeding and bruised, her eyes puffed and swollen.

  She was dead.

  Lorelei had looked nearly the same, with that emptiness about her body. For a moment he could see them both lying there across his lap, their traits overlapping and smearing his vision. His heart stood still and a sick feeling settled deep in his stomach. The Fates were cruel. They had given him two women of profound beauty and stolen both before he'd had a chance to fully love them. His hand shook as he touched her forehead. When their skins touched his Talent flared to life.

  She was not dead.

  His magic mounted to the point where his body began to mend and his mind began to come back into focus. She was feeding his Talent, he knew. Rejuvenating him, giving him what he needed to fix it all. Dorian shifted, pulling her onto his lap and gathering his strength. When he had enough he bent his head to hers and closed a gentle hand around her neck.

  In his mind he could see the sinew, the muscle, the damage that had been done and he began to repair it. He became aware of every breath she took, from the initial, shallow pull of air to the stronger, healthier breathing as he forced her body to fix itself. He even knew when she became aware of the pain again, her body tensing as consciousness came back to her.

  When it was finished he leaned back, still holding her.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Something else was wrong. She could feel it. Still reeling from the attack and the effects of Dorian's healing; Elsie found her way to her feet and swayed. Touching her forehead she became aware of Dorian's voice in the background, berating her for being a fool. Under normal circumstances she would have bit off a remark to him, reminding him that he had been a fool as well. If he'd charged Artimus when Leona had asked then none of this would have happened.

  The Dellidus was still here. Her Talent whispered the fact into her awareness. The Warding Pillars were crumbling along their section of the road, wild vines starting a slow crawl into their path. One of her men shouted out the alarm.

  Obviously their battle had greater consequences than just the wounds of their own bodies. Somewhere in the back of her mind Elsie remembered Dorian saying his original battle with Artimus had knocked the Pillars out of place for three miles in all directions. She prayed history had not repeated itself. Although she was a powerful Talented, she was also only an Heir Apparent. She would not have the strength to replace all of the Pillars at once. In fact, it could take her days to mend them, and there was no way to tell what parts of the Wild might slip through during that time.

  "Fates preserve us!" another one of her men exclaimed, though she couldn't locate his name in her memory.

  "Lord Feverrette," Elsie summoned her focus, bending to pick up her fallen sword and sheath it. "Would you be so kind as to occupy Lady Leona for a time?"

  He must have sensed the danger as well because he shook his head. "You don't have the strength to do this alone."

  Ignoring Dorian, she waved to the closest of her men, and he ran up to her. "Gather the wounded and make for Leona's position. Bryva will have stopped them at the crossroads to wait for us."

  The man nodded and left to relay her orders. Dorian muttered something about her, turning away. Elsie grabbed his forearm, a sudden thought coming to mind. They did not have time for all of the men to be away before she started to replace the Pillars. If Feverrette stayed then she could make it appear as though the power was coming from him, not her. For reasons she could not fathom, Artimus had chosen not to call her by her real identity so her pretense could be kept. She'd even managed to stop herself from bending time in the fight - a fact that might have led to Artimus's garroting display.

  Perhaps he had wanted her to show herself to the men rather than just accuse her of being the Heir Apparent.

  Dorian glanced at his arm, then at her face. "You've a plot forming, I can see it."

  She lowered her voice. "How good are you at acting, Milord?"

  "Dorian," he grimaced at her. "And I'm a nobleman. Politics is acting."

  "Good," Elsie knelt down and gathered a handful of pebbles from the road. Straightening again she turned and met his gaze. He was unhappy, furious, even. But he was not going to continue their fight in the middle of the road. He also knew the danger had not passed, she could tell because he became distracted by the crawl of a vine to their left. When he looked back at her there was a new comprehension to his features.

  "How do you want to play this?" he asked.

  "Be the showman I know you are."

  His pale eyes rolled heavenward, beseeching for a moment before he dropped to his knees and spread his arms wide. Elsie shifted to stand beside him rather than in front, spotting three of the men as they gave curious glances in their direction. She rolled the pebbles in her hand, counting three and praying she wouldn't need more.

  "I, Saldorian Dominic Gregorian Feverrette, call forth Magic to my side." Dorian's voice rose and all the attention swerved to him.

  Whispering, trying to keep her mouth from any obvious movement, Elsie started her own ritual, "I, Elsie Varene Delgora, call forth Magic to my side."

  Wind swirled before them, encompassing them, blocking out the sight of her retreating men with the lift of dust and rock. Her Talent rose, waiting for her request, but she could feel it strained from the actions of the day. Dorian was right; she would not be able to face this alone. Without asking, she lowered her hand to his shoulder and felt his Talent meld with her own. The whirlwind doubled with the added power, a chaos of movement that surprised her with its intensity.

  Then everything paused, pebbles frozen in mid-air.

  "Opawa Ayaatee," she murmured, closing her eyes and opening them in a deliberate, slow movement.

  The Warding Pillars became visible to her. Archways of salt-pillars lined the road, meeting together high above the canopy of trees. Several of them were cracking and at least three had sections broken. Elsie rolled the pebbles in her hand again, pinching one between thumb and forefinger.

  "Evioxuote," she commanded - the spell to strengthen - and dropped the first pebble.

  The pebble hit the ground with a resounding thud, sending a quake through the road. The pillars seemed to expand for a moment, like taking a deep breath of air, and settled back into place.

  "Enioquen," she murmured again - the spell to repair - and dropped the second pebble.

  Another shudder rent across the road, and the first of the broken pillars began to re-grow, pulling the gaps back together. Elsie felt her Talent wan, and then something altogether new happened. Rather than draining as her magic ought to have, given the amount she was using and the fight that had just occurred, where she touched
Dorian there was a sharp white flash, a bright explosion of power greater than anything she could have managed on her own. Invigorating was the best word for the sudden influx of magic. It sunk into her skin, cool and fresh like snowflakes.

  "Tateuote," Elsie whispered - the spell of protection - and struggled to keep herself on task.

  The world teetered, ground shaking underfoot one last time as magic made a powerful push to re-establish the Wards. Dust and pebbles collapsed to the ground as the power of the final spell ebbed away. Elsie watched as Dorian stood again, unable to take her gaze from his. She felt strong rather than weak, almost giddy, which was wrong since she'd just expended an immense amount of power. She should have been near collapsing.

  Dorian knew it too; she could read it on his face. Then his gaze dropped to her mouth and they both froze. He bent to kiss her, his mouth almost making contact when Bryva's sudden approach stopped him.

  "Leona wants to know if it is safe now," Bryva cast an icy glare at Dorian.

  "Tell her to stay where she is," he said with a bland smirk. "We'll be right along."

  "I think I'll just escort the both of you to her," Bryva propped a hand on her hip, obviously unhappy. "Can you ride?"

  "Absolutely," Elsie gave her sister a bright smile and moved to the nearest horse. It was a miracle the creature had not run off in the middle of the magic session, but she wasn't going to question a blessing when she had one.

  "Best you change your garb before someone unfriendly sees you," Bryva walked to her own horse. "Lucky for you, I remember these sorts of things when you run off to recklessly endanger yourself."

  "Yes, about that," Dorian turned to her as well. "What in Fates were you thinking?"

  "I was thinking, My Lord Feverrette, that it would be a nasty thing to have to arrive at Winter Tournament and announce your death."

  "You would equate my loss to that of an entire country?" He shook his head at her. "If you'd lost today all of Delgora would pay for it."

  "Don't flatter yourself, My Lord. I'd sacrifice you in a blink if it meant Delgora's survival," Elsie glared down at him from her mount. "As it stands, however, keeping you alive is in my best interest. If we arrive in Little Delgora with word of your death the Vicaress would demand Leona's swift return. Something I cannot abide at present."

  She spurred the horse forward and left them both behind. Curse that man for making her feel a fool. And she'd nearly kissed him. Again.

  ***

  The Dellidus watched from in the Wild as the three figures began to ride away, the Pillars were all set in their place, too strong now for it to cross. Feverrette was still alive. The fact did not surprise the Dellidus. It had known when it retreated that the job had not been finished. The girl had moved too quickly, spurred by her own Talent - a Talent that even the Dellidus had been blind to. This troubled the Dellidus to no end. If It could not detect the magic in that little, insignificant child then what else had he missed?

  But the girl was protected by something.

  It was torn between the Creature and the Man. The Creature was angry that the body was damaged. The Father was weeping.

  "She lied to us," the Father whispered, hoarse and weak.

  And then the Dellidus knew where the protection had come from. Not from any other Talented, not from the blasted Bedim that wandered unchecked through Delgora, but from the Father himself. The Creature was impressed that it's subjugate had managed to trick him.

  "Elsie."

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Dorian walked beside Leona, pretending to be interested in the different fabrics the girl mentioned and suggested. The sounds of the harbor distracted him. There was the roar of the ocean as it ran onto the beach, making hallow noises as it moved under the pier. There was the squawk of several birds overhead, each of them searching for an easy meal. There was general conversation from merchants as they tried to sell their goods. But most of all, there was Elsie's silence just behind him. He heard it more than everything else, and although he still felt he had every reason to be angry he hated the distance she had put between them. She gave him no opportunity to speak privately - though he had no idea what he intended to say - and every word that came out of her mouth was directed either to Leona or to Bryva, never to him.

  To be honest he hadn't seen much of her since their arrival in Little Delgora. It had been late in the evening, and they had separated to their different rooms for the night, so he hadn't thought about it much. He'd been too exhausted to care. The morning, however, had proven his suspicions. Elsie had come down from her room alone, ignored the fact that he had been sitting at a very viewable table and passed by without so much as a second glance.

  In fact, until Leona had summoned the girl to help shop for his materials, Elsie had been far out of his view. It was annoying, really. They were due to set sail that night, and it appeared that he was going to spend the entire trip at odds with the woman. Which was ridiculous, they were about to be confined on a boat, close quarters. There was no way they would be able to avoid each other.

  "Are you absolutely set on the green colors, Milord?" Leona asked, her fingers grazing a bit of dark blue fabric. "I think you would look ravishing in something like this."

  "Green is merely my favored color, Milady. If you think I would look better in another shade then I will submit myself to your judgment."

  Leona turned to Elsie with a smile that faltered. "Oh, Fates Sake!" the lady said and stomped her foot.

  Elsie jumped a little, glancing between them. "I'm sorry?"

  "I do not know what exactly transpired on the road, but the two of you really must come to terms with each other!" Leona managed to glare at them.

  Dorian paused, taken aback at the force of her vehemence. "My Lady ... "

  "I have been looking forward to this trip all year long, and the two of you are not going to spoil it for me. Either you make up or ... or ... " Leona turned to Elsie. "Or I'll have to remove Nessa from my employment."

  Elsie's eyes widened in shock and alarm, her mouth opened as she stammered for a reply. "My Lady, it was a disturbing set of events is all. I am certain we will be better travel companions on the morrow. We just haven't had a chance to recuperate."

  Leona rounded on him. "And you?"

  "Nessa is absolutely correct, Milady."

  "I should hope so." Leona spun on her heel. "By all accounts, Nessa is the one who chopped that wretched creatures hand off of you. The woman did manage to save your life, Milord. I haven't a clue what would make you so sour other than your own wounded pride."

  She stormed off, leaving them both behind. Dorian frowned after her, wanting to correct her assumptions. His pride wasn't hurt - not much anyway - and his anger had more to do with an errant Witch-Born who didn't seem to understand the gravity of the risks she was taking on her own life.

  Elsie expelled a long breath. "Well," she said.

  "And that's the first word I've heard from you in nearly a day." Dorian glanced at her.

  She drew herself up, pulling her cloak tight against her chest and shooting him a look that told him in no uncertain terms that it would be the last word he heard from her that day. Or at least he thought as much. She took one step forward then turned to face him again.

  "Do not make the mistake of assuming that my civility from this point forward has anything to do with you," she said.

  "I would think I had at least earned a little civility, given the fact that you would not be able to go to this damned Tournament without me."

  "You were a convenient means to an end, Milord. If you'd stayed in that damned safe house I would still be on this trip. And as was displayed on the road yesterday, I'd probably be a great deal safer."

  He took a step closer to her and noticed the way her spine stiffened in defense. "And how many men have you taken to that safe house of yours? Were they all Bedim as Artimus insinuated or have you a taste for the Untalented instead?"

  Elsie gasped and slapped him, hard. Before he had
a chance to recover she had pivoted away and hurried down the pier. He touched his cheek, frowning. He'd been far cruder than he'd intended to be. And deliberately hurtful, now that he had time to think about what had flown out of his mouth. Fates! She stirred the most basic of instincts from him. It was almost amusing to watch the people hurry out of her path. She was a furious force of unstable emotion that managed to quiet even the merchants, the snap of her cream-colored skirts an echo of her anger.

  "Why is it that most women end up slapping you?" Gremor moved to his side.

  "Only a select few have slapped me, Gremor." He scowled at the man. "And in this case I imagine I deserved it. She's just so damned irritating. I needed to knock her off her high horse, so to speak."

  "I believe I understand who she is now," Gremor mentioned, watching as a merchant leapt out of Elsie's way. "I'm quite mortified at my own actions against her. Do you suppose it would be appropriate for me to apologize on both our accounts?"

  "No. I'm man enough to apologize for myself."

  "Might I suggest you wait until we're on board? There are fewer places for her to run."

  "Thank you, Gremor. I hadn't thought of that." Dorian said dryly.

  ***

  Reonne paced in front of her fireplace, her night robe flicking behind her as she turned and repeated the steps. In her hand was the message Leona had sent informing her of the attack, and their safe arrival at Little Delgora. The Dellidus had failed to kill Feverrette. There'd been another man, one Artimus Berkuska, a Bedim Knight if Feverrette was to be believed. The same man who had made the first attempt on the young Lord's life and failed.

  She wasn't certain which failure bothered her more, the Bedim's or the Dellidus's. Both were efficient killers and both had missed their marks. Was that blasted Feverrette built of stone?

  They were less than four months away from the Ascension Day. Winter Tournament would keep Leona busy for the bulk of that time, but at some point Reonne would have to make her move on the girl. After all, Leona loved Delgora. The people of Delgora loved Leona. It was a perfect fit. Magic would have to see it that way.