The Avatars Series: Books 1-3

by Blackwood, Lisa

  And there were many sounds of anguish filling the air.

  For every cry, she sought to pull down another Riven as payment in kind. She didn’t know how long the battle raged. Seconds? Minutes? But between one ragged breath and the next, the battle was over, the last Riven dying upon Gregory’s talons.

  With a snarl of disgust, he shoved the corpse away and glanced over at her where his gaze quickly scanned her for injury. An assortment of slashes and bite marks decorated her upper body and lower arms. Blood seeped from them, but she did nothing to stop the minor bleeding, deciding it was the best way to cleanse the wounds for now.

  Lillian’s mother was examining a nasty open wound on Darkness’s belly. It looked like he’d almost been eviscerated by one of the Riven.

  She would have been more concerned, but her father was still alert, studying his surroundings as if prepared to continue the fight should more enemies put in an appearance.

  A soft whine drew her gaze to her brother. He struggled to his feet and stumbled toward her location. Her eyes narrowing, she looked him over and didn’t see a wound deep enough to cause his distress.

  He tugged at something along his side, just under where his last rib ended.

  She saw it then, the hilt of a demon blade.

  Luck had been with her. She’d taken a couple cuts from one of those blades, but hadn’t allowed the Riven who wielded it to land a stabbing thrust. Her brother hadn’t been so lucky.

  Taking a step forward and opening her senses once more, she felt it too, the slow deadly suction that could drain all magic from its unfortunate victim. Intent on offering him aid, she started forward only to be warned off by a low growl as Gregory put himself in her path.

  “Let me by,” Lillian said, surprised her voice sounded anywhere near normal.

  “No.” Gregory didn’t turn his attention from her family when he answered her.

  Frustrated, but also respecting his reason for distrust, she didn’t challenge him about being overprotective this time. He had reason. But she was also certain that her baby brother was innocent. “Gregory, he’s got one of those cursed blades buried in his side. You know how much those hurt, and what it will do to him if we don’t get it out quickly.”

  She could already see the ring of stone forming around the blade where his body tried to protect and heal itself.

  Lillian’s parents looked up, just noticing the youngster’s distress. Shadowlight had been doing a good job of not broadcasting his pain, but now that he was closer, she could smell it even over the stench of battle.

  “Shadowlight?” River called. Then the truth dawned upon her features and her eyes grew large. “Shadowlight!” She ran, sprinting over bodies and the gore-slicked ground to reach his side. She sank to her knees and brushed his hands away to better see the damage.

  Darkness was at their side a moment later.

  “I have no magic left that will touch this,” her mother whispered in horror, glancing between her son and her mate. It was easy to see her grief.

  Darkness moved one hand from where it was braced against his own wound and raised it to the demon blade. As his fist engulfed the hilt, his muscles went taunt, his wings trembled at the strain.

  Lillian’s stomach dropped in sudden understanding. Her father was too weak to heal both himself and his son.

  She glanced at Gregory, silently pleading for his help.

  “Fine,” Gregory rumbled, fingering the tattoo around his neck. “If they came to achieve some mischief, they’ve already done their worst.”

  He stalked forward, his tail twitching in agitation, his body language stating how profoundly unhappy he was at the situation.

  Lillian trailed him. He glanced over his shoulder long enough to glare at her for not staying where he’d left her, but he didn’t reprimand her aloud.

  Bodily pushing Darkness out of his way, he did a quick examination of Shadowlight’s side, then look back at Lillian.

  “I can’t access my magic without your order,” he said without a hint of emotion. “Make it a command that I heal all our allies, all who serve the light.”

  Lillian sucked in a breath, surprised to find the Hunt had encircled them while she and Gregory had talked. Many had wounds as grievous as her brother’s or father’s. “Do you have strength for all that?” she asked in a low voice, more for a respectful tone than an attempt to hide her questions. The Fae around them could clearly hear every word of their exchange.

  “No.” Gregory gave a little shrug to Lillian’s question and then turned to address all the rest of the Hunt. “But it will not be my will that will allow the healing, I shall summon magic from the Spirit Realm and all healing will be by the Divine Ones’ grace. Stay and be judged by them, or go into the darkness.”

  Gregory turned back to the wounded young gargoyle without further comment.

  There was some uneasy shifting among the Wild Hunt, but none fled that Lillian spotted.

  Her father bowed his head and closed his eyes, preparing.

  Lillian didn’t know whom her parents served, but she wanted the chance to know more about them before….before what might happen next.

  Gregory speared her with a look. “This is your choice to make. You must make it soon. There are many more Riven to be hunted this night.”

  More Riven? Of course, aren’t there always, she thought with bitter resentment.

  “Heal them,” she ordered. “Heal everyone here who serves the light. Let it be the will of the Divine Ones.”

  She rested her fingers lightly upon the brand circling her neck. By Gregory’s earlier words, it sounded like anyone whom the Divine Ones judged to be tainted weren’t likely to see the dawn.

  Was that Gregory’s plan all along? To end them both before they could become the Battle Goddess’s play things?

  “So ordered, so shall it be.” Gregory’s somber tone matched the ritual words.

  He mantled his wings and they flared outward like two great sails. His eyes drifted closed as his voice rose in a melodic chant.

  Lillian wanted to take the coward’s way out and squeeze her own eyes tightly shut, but if she’d just ordered their doom, well, by the God and Goddess, she’d watch it come with her eyes wide and her mind free of fear.

  Gregory held his hands out before him, palms facing each other like he held a globe-shaped object between them.

  Cold air flowed downward from some unknown spot above her head. A breeze picked up, growing stronger by the second until it was kicking up debris in a circle around them. Cross currents continued to build as silvery blue fog rose from the ground. Lillian’s lungs burned and she released the breath she’d been holding.

  Between Gregory’s outstretched hands, a spinning vortex of pure, cold magic formed. Brighter flares of magic twisted up through the opposing currents of air and a small twister began to swirl down from a denser, cloud-like mass of power over head.

  A tornado?

  That was to be the mechanism of Divine justice?

  Poetic justice, too, perhaps, for Gregory had been like a tornado coming into her life: powerful, awe-inspiring, possessing a deadly beauty, and fully willing and capable of disrupting an orderly life.

  If this was to be her end, she wanted to say one more thing.

  “I’m sorry,” she shouted above the noise of the wind. “So sorry I made such a muddle of things. I only ever wanted to be worthy.”

  Gregory’s eyes slid open and his expression was serene.

  “I know,” he whispered into her mind, “And you were always worthy, my beautiful dryad, my fierce gargoyle huntress.”

  He dropped the glowing ball of power he’d held between his hands, it fell slowly as if gravity’s hand had no effect upon it. When it finally hit the ground, it shattered, exploding outward in all directions.

  A powerful force knocked her from her feet and rolled her a few times until she collided with a tree. The force flowed onward, feeling more like an ocean wave, one with a powerful accompanying und
ertow than it resembled storm tossed air currents.

  Lillian gasped and shuddered before she managed to roll herself back into an upright position. All fours was the best she could manage. She’d try for two later.

  A tingling sensation raced along her nerve endings, similar to the pins and needles of restored circulation. Though, this was probably something far less harmless. The magic sank beneath her skin, seeped into her bloodstream, and then deeper yet, through muscle and into bone, until its cold tingle settled deep in the marrow. It paused then, and Lillian took a courage strengthening breath. Nothing more happened for several heartbeats. She was just glancing up to see how the magic was affecting the others when a wave of pain welled up from within her bones.

  The pain stole the strength from her limbs, and she grunted as she rolled onto her side. Her body twisted and quaked as it began to shape shift.

  The weight of her wings grew too much for her to hold up away from her body. They might as well have been two lumps of dead flesh for all she could move them. Then with another body spanning shudder, her wings vanished, pulled back into her body in one quick and extremely painful surge.

  Shape shifting hurt. It always had. But this made the first few times seem easy.

  Her jaws ached from clenching them, but the alternative was crying out in pain and that might distract Gregory from the spell. She’d already caused enough trouble, she wouldn’t call down more.

  Besides, with that mighty power riding him, she wasn’t sure if that was really Gregory. He stood, head bowed and wreathed in shimmering, flame-like magic. Even over the distance, she could feel the cold magic of the Spirit Realm flowing outward from where he stood, feeding the spell, which was presently controlling her change.

  Her gargoyle features vanished and left her weak and shaking in the smaller body she’d known far longer. Though, at this exact moment, her dryad body seemed no more in her control than her gargoyle one had been.

  She continued to shake and quiver for a good minute. Slowly her limbs regained feeling and strength, and she sighed in relief when they moved at her command.

  Blinking, she found herself curled in a fetal position. The earth was soft under her, and its scent was reassuring. She didn’t want to move, but forced herself back to her hands and knees. Only then did she realise there was still magic sliding through her, examining her. It shifted from the center of her chest upwards until it settled in a circle around her neck. The tingling increased.

  Threat or warning?

  She didn’t know but breathed a hardy sigh of relief when the power moved on. If the power wanted to kill her, surely it would have done that at the first touch. No, the magic seemed more interested in studying her, which gave her no comfort whatsoever.

  The magic continued to coil through her blood, a seemingly random examination.

  She was just acclimatizing to the chilled presence when a tendril snaked lower and touched her womb with its insubstantial fingers. There it paused, as if it found something of great interest.

  Lillian shivered at the power’s creeping touch, and fear re-awoke, rocketing her to new levels of dismay.

  No, please, no.

  It was just one stupid time.

  Oh, come on. I can’t be pregnant. Besides, I’m not the Sorceress. It doesn’t matter.

  The magic didn’t shift from its quest for knowledge and continued to scan her womb, but she didn’t sense any increased hostility.

  Would she even know if the magic was hostile? It wasn’t like it was a thinking, reasoning being.

  But Gregory was.

  Presently, he was acting as a conduit for that power. Was he aware of what it learned?

  Several heartbeats later, the magic flashed back up and gave her tattoo one final prod. The probing search lasted longer than she liked, but after another chilled touch, the power disappeared.

  In its wake, she was left weak-kneed and very, very cold inside, like her spirit had taken a chill.

  Slowly, her pounding heart eased its frantic tempo and warmth returned to her body.

  With a half conscious gesture, she reached to finger the skin of her throat. Disappointment rose within her at the feel of the raised brand. That it was still there came as no real surprise, for if it was that easy to get rid of, Gregory wouldn’t have been so angry.

  But she was alive. And a quick survey showed all her injuries healed. That was something.

  The gods didn’t smite her after all. Gregory looked equally whole. As she watched, he reached for his own brand, then he fisted his fingers and let it fall back to his side. Maybe she wasn’t the only one with that small, naïve hope.

  Turning away before her gaze caught his, she studied the power as it continued to flow farther out from its magical epicenter. Wherever it encountered one of the Fae, the winds would spin and whirl until, with a little burst of magic, the accompanying healing spell would migrate to the next nearest Fae. In counter point, wherever the power touched upon a Riven’s body or a spot of tainted blood, the magic would lick along it with pale blue flames until all was consumed.

  Others were still gaining their feet after the initial surge of magic had tossed them on their asses. Lillian’s little brother was one, and seeing him move in a stiff and awkward manner, she hurried to his side. A soft, but otherwise happy whine greeted her.

  After giving him a once over and examining the smooth skin where the blade had been, she enfolded him in the best bear hug she could manage now that she was once again a much smaller dryad.

  Her eyes turned to her father to find River already there, bending over him, checking for injuries. That they had both survived gave Lillian some hope that she might one day explore those family bonds to see how deep they ran, and if a relationship was even possible. But unlike with her brother, she had no urge to go and hug either parent.

  They were strangers. As was her brother, she supposed. But there was something very engaging about Shadowlight, his friendly openness melted even the most resigned heart.

  A shift in the flow of magic against her skin alerted her that Gregory’s spell was winding down. In its wake, all were healed and the bodies of the Riven had vanished. Strange though it was, she could still see the broken underbrush, torn up grass, and smell the scent of crushed vegetation where the individual battles had occurred, but the blood and gore were absent. Slowly, other things seeped into her consciousness. While the Wild Hunt still milled around Lillian and Gregory, awaiting direction, a quick tally showed that their number had decreased.

  Killed in battle or killed by Gregory’s magic?

  “All who ran with us were loyal. Only the dead and those too far gone to be healed are gone, free to journey to the Spirit Realm. May they have a long, peaceful rest before starting the journey of life once more.”

  Lillian looked around, disconcerted for another reason. She didn’t know the members of the Wild Hunt, not personally. Though they clearly knew each other.

  What if she’d lost friends or family she’d known for years. There one minute and then gone the next. No chance to say goodbye. Nothing of the physical left to shed tears over, no burial for a final goodbye. Wiped clean off the earth by divine power in the space between heartbeats.

  Gregory had called to that mighty power and he’d received an answer. She’d seen greater shows of power from him; he’d told her all along what he was, what she used to be: an Avatar.

  And avatars belonged to their gods. But those same gods somehow belonged to their avatars, and couldn’t or wouldn’t deny Gregory that power, even when it was clear he had been compromised by the brand of enslavement.

  They would grant great power in the name of the Light, but Tethys had taught her that truth, duty, and her human moral code were not always on the same page.

  What Gregory was capable of had never been as real to her as it was in that moment of clarity. What he was. Such a beautiful, horrifically fierce power she now commanded. She’d never felt so tiny, or completely inadequate in her life. Someh
ow she had to release him from the influence of the brand.

  That barely contained force must never belong to the Lady of Battles. Her earlier conviction was based on more personal reasons. He was her friend, beloved companion, the other half of her soul. She wanted to protect him out of her love for him, their sense of duty to each other.

  Those were romantic reasons, but there was a far more deadly and far reaching reason why she couldn’t let them fall any further into the Battle Goddess’s manipulations.

  Both she and Gregory could be the greatest threat the universe had ever encountered—because even with the Battle Goddess’s slave collars around their Avatars’ necks, the Divine Ones still shared their power.

  Gregory’s little experiment proved that.

  “You finally understand?” he asked as he padded over to her on all fours. “The Divine Ones love all they create. They would not destroy the Lady of Battles even when her war with her twin threatened to tear apart the Magic Realm. They love us no less—in essence we were their first born. It seems they will not or cannot deny us their power. I had expected as much, but hoped otherwise.” Gregory fell silent as he fingered his tattoo.

  Lillian fidgeted with her meager clothing, adjusting the ties so they wouldn’t fall off her smaller dryad frame. “I do understand why you see Tethys as a better choice than trusting my biological parents. And I would not have used these cursed collars knowing what I know now; however, I would have still fought the siren and attempted to free you or died trying.”

  Gregory acknowledged her comment with a nod.

  A soft swish of long grasses in an unfelt breeze and the shifting of shadows announced when her father joined them. “I am truly sorry for our part in your current predicament, First One.” Her father bowed to Gregory. “I failed to find the secondary spell hidden in the intricacies of the outer casing. My failure is a stain upon my honor.” He tilted his muzzle toward the night sky and waited, his vulnerable throat exposed.

  Lillian saw her mother’s looked shift from concern to terror.

  Gregory huffed out a sound of mild contempt. “Considering where you spent the last twenty or so years of your life, I can only imagine that this most recent failure is just one of many stains upon that honor.”