by Donna Grant
Helena lowered her gaze to the ground briefly. “You are following the two witches, aye?”
“I am. One did something to my friend’s mind. I would have it reversed.”
“You will likely grab the moon before you ever convince a Coven member to undo what has been done. However, I might be able to help.”
Carac knew he was taking a risk by trusting her. For all he knew, she was the third person with Angmar and Sybbyl. But what if she could help Simon?
He gave her a nod and turned on his heel. Together, they walked to the camp where he knelt to wake Simon, but Helena stopped it.
“It will be easier this way,” she whispered before putting her hands on either side of Simon’s temples.
Carac wrapped his fingers around the arrow in his boot, ready to plunge it into the witch if she made a false move. He studied her as she sat there with her eyes closed for a long time.
Finally, she dropped her arms and opened her eyes. “It was Angmar’s magic. She was using Simon to see through his eyes to learn what you were doing and to, eventually, turn him against you. She knows everything in his mind. His past, the present. And she’s aware that you are following her.”
Carac ran a hand through his hair before propping his elbow on his knee. “Is the magic gone?”
“A Coven elder has significant power. I have removed all that I can, but I can never erase it all. There will be parts of his memory missing, but he will at least be his old self once more.”
“I hope you are right.”
She rose and went to each knight, touching their weapons and saying something before returning to Carac. She held out her hand, and he handed her his sword. After whispering something he couldn’t understand, she gave him back the weapon and motioned for him to follow her. He kept the arrow in his hand, the shaft against his arm—because while he wanted to believe her, he couldn’t.
Helena stopped and faced him. “I have ensured that each of your men now has the ability to kill a witch. You no longer have to carry a single arrow.”
“Thank you.” He put the bolt back into his boot and slid his sword into its scabbard.
“I know that you love Ravyn.”
He didn’t reply. There was nothing to say. He wanted to deny it, but the words locked in his throat.
“I was too late to stop them from killing the other Hunter, but they have Ravyn.”
Carac took a step back, shaking his head. “Nay. She would fight them.”
Helena smiled, her gaze dropping briefly to the ground. “Angmar was in your friend’s mind. They knew you had the staff. And they wanted a Hunter. Neither Ravyn nor her friend stood a chance.”
Carac rubbed his chest where a pain had begun again. He’d intended to abandon Ravyn because he stupidly believed she would betray him. Even when everything pointed to the fact that she had no reason.
The witches knew exactly what to do to turn him against Ravyn.
“Keep on your course,” Helena said. “You will find them soon enough. But hurry. I do not know how long Ravyn will survive.”
He began to turn away when she added, “And be careful. Not all is as it seems.”
Chapter 36
She wanted to die. Actually prayed for death.
But Ravyn knew such relief wouldn’t come anytime soon.
No longer did she attempt to hold back her screams. The witches took turns torturing her. She lost count of the various ways their magic had been used on her. She had been burned, frozen, choked, stabbed, had bones broken, and felt as if she were being ripped apart limb from limb.
The entire time, they repeated one question: “Who is the witch helping the Hunters?”
No matter what they did to her, Ravyn would never give them the answer they sought. Because she feared the witches getting into her head, she didn’t even refer to anyone by name in her thoughts. She put up a mental wall in her mind and kept laying stone after stone to keep anyone from busting through.
The passage of time was irrelevant. Ravyn didn’t know how many hours or days had passed. All she knew was the constant, unending agony.
She fell back on the ground as Sybbyl relented with her most recent torture. Ravyn pulled the sweet taste of air into her lungs and gloried in the short respite from the pain as the witches spoke.
“She is tougher than I expected,” Angmar stated.
Ravyn didn’t have the energy to raise her eyelids to look at them. Her mind retreated from the anguish that assaulted every part of her body. If she could find the tears, Ravyn would cry. But even that part of her was wounded.
She winced as the breeze passed over her many injuries. Whatever fight had driven her all those years had been ripped out and hacked to pieces. She desperately wanted to go to a place in her mind where she had tucked Carac and their unexpected, extraordinary love.
He no doubt hated her now. Maybe that was for the best because he would have no desire to be anywhere near her, which meant that he wouldn’t seek out Braith and join the fight against the Coven. So there was a good chance Carac would live.
“I think it is time for something more,” Angmar said, yanking Ravyn from her thoughts.
More? What more could there be?
And then it dawned on Ravyn. The Staff of the Eternal.
Ravyn forced her eyes open and looked up at the sky. Dawn was breaking. How many more days could she survive the constant torment? She feared the answer.
There was a soft thunk as Angmar stabbed the staff against the ground. “This can all end, Hunter. All you have to do is give me a name.”
Ravyn slowly turned her head to the last Coven elder. “Mary.”
Angmar frowned and looked at Sybbyl. “Do you know a Mary?”
“Many,” Sybbyl replied with a shrug.
“Edgar,” Ravyn continued. “Robert. Jane. Angus. Elizabeth.”
Angmar’s face mottled with rage as she realized what Ravyn was doing. Ravyn laughed as Angmar’s fingers tightened on the staff as she whispered something.
The laugh was cut short as a scream locked within Ravyn as she writhed upon the ground while it felt as if she were burning from the inside out. With every breath, every movement, the agony doubled.
It lasted a moment...or an eternity. Ravyn did not know which. All she knew was that the pain finally relented. But if she thought she would get another respite, she was wrong.
Sybbyl squatted down beside her, a smile on her face. “I should have known it was you. It is so obvious now. You have believed all these years that your mother saved you by hiding you behind her skirts. I saw you, Ravyn. I saw your little hand and the way your mother refused to run and expose you.”
The tears Ravyn hadn’t been able to shed earlier filled her eyes. “Nay.”
“Indeed.” Sybbyl laughed and straightened. “I waited the entire day for you to get out from beneath your mother’s dead body. But I grew tired of waiting and left.” She bent forward, putting her hands on her knees. “I gave you your life. And now, I’m going to take it away.”
Ravyn took a deep breath as Angmar handed Sybbyl the staff.
Carac pushed his horse hard. As soon as Helena walked away, he roused the others and told them about her visit, her gift of spelling their blades, and her warning. They were riding within moments. Carac kept a close watch on Simon, and it appeared as if his friend was back to his former self.
And Carac was thankful for that.
He had no idea where he was going, but the witch had said he would know it when he found it. His gut twisted with fear each time he thought of Ravyn in the clutches of the Coven. He had been so quick to judge that he’d never considered she had been taken.
Carac finally slowed when they crested a hill, and all that was before him was a thick forest to his front and right and a village to his left.
He glanced over at Simon to find his friend’s face crumpled. Simon then turned his head to look at him, and a tear fell down his face. Carac clamped his hand on Simon’s shoulder.
&nb
sp; “I did no—”
“Do not,” Carac said over him. “You had no control. The witch took it from you.”
Simon rubbed his eyes and swallowed as he looked forward. “I cared deeply for Margery. They did not make me feel that. But they took it away. She is gone, but we can still find Ravyn.”
Carac hoped his friend was right, but his gut told him that the chances of Ravyn remaining alive were slim. But he would hold out hope until he saw her body.
“The trees,” Carac said as he pointed to them.
Simon raised a brow. “Are you sure?”
“Helena said I would know.”
“Then we go.” Simon looked behind him and motioned the men to follow.
Carac clicked to his horse and galloped over the rolling terrain until he reached the forest. He then slowed his stallion to a walk.
The only sound was the horses’ hooves as they clopped along the ground. The deeper into the woods Carac traveled, the more everything felt...wrong.
Suddenly, his horse slid to a halt and reared up. When he came down, the stallion was throwing his head and trying to run away. It was everything Carac could do to hold him steady. But his men had no such luck.
Carac finally allowed his horse to back up, but the animal was shaking and breathing hard. He dismounted and patted the stallion’s neck, talking low while others watched their horses run off.
He exchanged a worried look with Simon, who was also able to manage his mount. Carac looked back at the spot where the horses had gone berserk.
“We go on foot,” Carac announced and gave his horse another rub along his neck.
Simon came to stand beside him as he started forward. They had only gone a few paces before a bird flew right at his head. Carac ducked, his eyes going skyward to the animal. And when he faced forward again, a hooded figure stood there.
“You enter a place you know nothing about,” the man said and set the end of his staff on the ground while a wolf came out to stand beside him.
And then the bird—a falcon—landed on top of the staff.
Carac studied the man. “Who are you?”
“My name matters not. You should turn away from this place.”
“I cannot,” Carac said. “I search for two witches who have taken my friend prisoner.”
The man raised his free hand and pushed back the hood of his cloak to reveal long, blond hair and eyes so pale a blue they were nearly white. “Well, then. That changes things.”
“How so?” Simon demanded.
The wolf sat beside the man. “It means that instead of warning you off from this place by saying it is evil, I will have to tell you what you will find if you venture within.”
“I am going in,” Carac declared. “You will not stop me. If you are working with the Coven, you can tell them that.”
One side of the man’s lips lifted in a grin. “I do not work for the Coven. I fight them.”
“Then we are on the same side,” Simon said.
The man looked from Simon to Carac. “I do not think so.”
Carac was losing patience. “I do not have the time to stand here and argue with you. Move aside, or I will go through you.”
“You can try,” the man said calmly.
Carac withdrew his sword from its scabbard and widened his stance. “So be it. I have stood against a ghost and witches and survived. I will get through you.”
“I can kill you without moving,” the man said. “Or send my animals to attack. I am trying to warn you away to save your lives. You may know of witches, but you do not understand what awaits you inside.”
Carac lifted his sword. “The Coven. And they have my woman. A Hunter.”
The man frowned before giving a short whistle. The falcon flew away, and the wolf ran off. “I have been tracking the two Coven elders.”
“One,” Simon corrected him.
Carac nodded. “We killed one of the elders, the red-haired one.”
“My name is Jarin,” the man said. “I am part of a race of witches and warlocks who have been fighting to control the Coven for thousands of years. I recently aided a Hunter against the elders.”
“Leoma,” Carac said as he lowered his weapon. “She was with my friend.”
Jarin grinned. “Braith.”
“Aye. Thank you for helping them.”
Jarin shrugged and changed his staff to his other hand. “I will warn you that it is not a good sign that Angmar has a Hunter.”
“Her name is Ravyn,” Simon said.
Carac looked at the trees ahead. “We found the Staff of the Eternal. I thought we’d kept it out of the Coven’s hands, but I was wrong.”
“It is not your fault,” Jarin said. “The only reason the Coven did not acquire the Blood Skull was because it did not want to be with them. The other relics will not do the same.”
Simon grunted. “So whoever has them, controls them?”
“I am afraid so,” Jarin replied and looked to the men behind Carac. “You know your weapons will not kill witches.”
“Actually, they will,” Carac said with a grin.
Chapter 37
A warlock. Carac stared at Jarin. Just when he’d begun to think there were no more surprises, Carac was hit with another. But they were going to need the man.
“You are about to enter a Witch’s Grove,” Jarin told them. “Magic binds it. Once you cross the threshold, you will hear the witches. And Ravyn.”
Carac looked at the woods. He had thought because there were no screams that Ravyn wasn’t being hurt. What a fool he was.
“There are also...other things within,” Jarin continued. “Do not stray from the path I set. Walk in pairs. And if you want to come out alive, do not follow the whispers.”
Carac’s gaze swung to Jarin. “You have not told us what to do to get out.”
“That will depend on whether we survive the battle. Angmar is the strongest of the elders. She is a formidable opponent,” Jarin replied.
“What are the whispers?” one of the men asked.
Jarin stared flatly at the knights. “Not something you want to discover. Trust me.”
Carac turned to Simon. “I think half the men should remain out here.”
“Carac,” Simon began.
But he talked over him. “Braith and those at the abbey need people who know how to fight. We cannot lose everyone inside.”
A muscle flexed in Simon’s jaw, but he gave a nod after a pause.
“Good. You will stay to lead them,” Carac stated.
Simon gave a shake of his head, frustration and anger mixing. “I should be with you. We have never gone into battle without each other.”
“I know, but this war is greater than any we’ve ever fought. If I do not make it, Braith will need you.”
It was only after Simon had agreed that Carac turned to the men. “I will need half of you with me.”
After the men had stepped forward, Carac looked at Jarin. “Ready?”
“I was born to hunt the Coven. I am the one who should be asking if you are ready.”
Carac shrugged. “I suppose we will find out.”
“I imagine we will,” Jarin mumbled. Then he looked at Simon. “My companions will be around. Do not attempt to harm them. They will kill you.”
“How do we know which animals are yours?” Simon asked.
Jarin grinned. “You will have to guess.”
Carac and Simon exchanged a nod. Carac then walked to Jarin.
“The terrain is rough, and the slope up the hill steep. We move fast. Prepare yourself,” Jarin said as he took a step.
The moment Carac crossed the indiscernible line, it was like stepping into another world. Though the sun had been shining just a second ago, it felt as if it shrank behind layers of clouds. Evil pervaded everything. But it was the screams wracked with pain that brought him to a halt.
He knew they belonged to Ravyn. And it broke his heart that he had almost left her to the Coven. Had Helena not found him, he would
have tried to forget Ravyn.
“Come,” Jarin said and took his arm, pulling him forward.
Carac was almost immediately nauseous. He struggled to breathe, wanting clean air that wasn’t doused with wickedness. He wasn’t sure how the plants could grow in such an atmosphere. Then he heard the whispers.
“Steady,” Jarin said without looking at the knights behind him.
Carac continued the climb upward, only to jerk when he felt something next to his cheek. The whisper was right in his ear. But he didn’t look at what it was. He didn’t want to know. The fact that Jarin kept his gaze forward was enough for Carac.
Whatever the things were, they left the warlock alone. It must have had something to do with magic. They continued through the trees, their pace slow and steady.
Carac hated not being able to see clearly. What light made it through the trees was so dim that it was almost like hunting at dusk. His eyes kept playing tricks on him because he was sure he saw a tree move. Or a portion of a tree break away from itself.
There was a shout from behind them. Carac turned around in time to see one of his men dragged off into the shadows. Another knight ran after him and disappeared.
Jarin gripped Carac’s arm. “Remember what I said.”
He looked at the warlock before motioning his men to continue upward. Then, blessedly, Ravyn’s screams stopped. The relief he felt was short-lived because he knew she could be dead.
Finally, Carac saw an opening through the trees ahead. They reached the top of the hill to find a flat, open area. But he didn’t see the witches.
Jarin turned to face him, his pale gaze intense. “They know we are here.”
Carac stared at the warlock for a moment before his gaze slid back to the clearing. He scanned the area. That’s when he saw the still form lying on the ground. “Ravyn.”
“It is a trap,” Jarin warned.
“It will not be the first I’ve stepped into.” He moved his gaze back to Jarin and gave a nod.
Carac shifted to his men and mouthed trap. They all knew what to do. He motioned for them to spread out and stay alert. Then he returned his attention to Jarin.
