Sorceress Awakening

by Lisa Blackwood

  The Lady of Battles reclined on the garnet-colored stone steps outside her temple. She raised her head, and then came to her feet with the soft rustle of fabric and the rattle of chains. With the deep-red stairs and the polished-black onyx of her temple behind her, the Lady of Battles glowed pale against the darkness, an ethereal creature with alabaster skin and green eyes. A delicate bare foot poked out from under the hem of her cream-colored dress as she descended the steps. Her slim-figured elegance was at odds with the blood-red breastplate and manacles encircling her wrists and ankles.

  The goddess continued down the steps in an unhurried manner. Her billowing skirt reminded Lillian of sails in a strong wind, the chains disappearing into the shadows, the ship’s rigging.

  It wasn’t until the Lady of Battles reached the foot of her temple and knelt down to peer through the shimmering window that Lillian realized her true size. The dark goddess was a giant, like a Titan of old. The individual links of the chain binding her were the size of Lillian’s torso.

  If she were not so far gone, Lillian would have been terrified. But terror was too great an emotion to muster at the moment.

  “What is this?” The Lady of Battles demanded, her voice booming across the clearing. “Wee little demons, do you seek to better yourselves?” Her voice grew softer and darker. “Better yourselves by sacrificing my daughter? I think not.”

  Lillian was so woozy, she could barely think. Had the dark goddess just called Lillian daughter? That couldn’t be good?

  “I have planned too long to let your foolish greed destroy my work. Release my daughter and I might let you live,” the Lady said, while her piercing gaze tracked everything in the clearing. The two green orbs at last settled on Lillian. “Daughter, let me help you.”

  Accompanying the words, Lillian felt more of the foreign magic invade the meadow from the viewing window. The demons hissed at one another, nearly stumbling over each other in their hurry to get away. The magic continued to pour into the meadow and then it reached her.

  Lillian burned and itched. A searing agony shot through her. She bucked and spasmed with the pain, feeling as though her bones were melting and reshaping themselves.

  *

  Gregory flared his wings to slow his descent while he took in a scene more horrible than he’d expected. A chaotic mix of power swirled around the meadow. But it was the essence of his greatest enemy that overlaid every other scent. Somehow the Lady of Battles was here.

  “You’re late,” the Lady said as Gregory landed. “Again.”

  Gregory froze at the sight of the silver window occupying half the meadow. The Lady of Battles looked out upon the scene from the steps of her temple. In front of the mirror was a small slab of stone propped up haphazardly by another boulder half-buried in the ground. Upon the stone altar, Lillian hung suspended by her wrists. Blood dripped down the length of her naked body and coated the stone beneath. With a cry, Gregory bolted into motion, uncaring if he was about to walk into the Lady’s trap.

  Up close, Lillian was gray, and her breath came in shallow gasps. Her eyes, wide with fear, met his. He slashed the ropes tying her to the crude stone alter. She slumped into his arms.

  “Go. I don’t want you to die,” she whispered.

  “Foolish, beloved Sorceress. I can endure much, but I cannot live without you.” He lowered his muzzle to her and rested his forehead against hers. This was all he could do. Hold her while she died. “I’ll follow you. Soon we’ll start over.” He would seek out the Lady of Battles in her prison and pick a fight he couldn’t win.

  “No, love,” Lillian said. “If you challenge her and die in her prison, she’ll trap your soul as she did mine, force you to be reborn into a body she can control. That’s what she wants. She tried to heal me, make me into her tool, but I’m too weak—now I’m useless to her. She needs you.”

  “Gargoyle, feed her some of your blood,” the Lady of Battles commanded.

  Tears flowed freely. He didn’t care if the battle goddess witnessed his grief or took joy in it. He caressed Lillian’s hair as he tried to comfort her as best he could. This never got easier, ever. “I have you,” he whispered into her hair. “The pain will be gone soon. Let go. I’ll join you shortly.”

  The Lady of Battles slammed her chains against the stone of her temple. “You don’t have to watch her die. Share your blood!”

  “It will only prolong her pain,” Gregory growled at the goddess. How he wished he had the power to destroy this creature. “There is no magic in this Realm strong enough to fix what is broken. I can feel the wound to her soul. Even on the border of the Spirit Realm, with the full complement of our power at our call, this would be taxing to heal. If you possessed even a little mercy, you would leave me in peace for this.”

  “Fool. Do you think I would make one of my creatures so easy to kill? She is my pride, my greatest weapon. I made her harder to kill, not easier. Give—Her—Your—Blood. Unless you want to watch her die. Choose.” The Lady of Battles crossed her arms and sat down to wait.

  Gregory glanced down at his Mistress, so close to death. Could it be that simple to save her? Did he care if he was playing into the Lady’s hands? No.

  He exhaled sharply as he slashed his talons across his chest, then forced her limp body to rest against his. She turned her head, sniffing. When she laid a quivering hand on his chest and skimmed her lips along his skin, he shuddered. Her warm tongue slid over the wound and her throat worked as she drank his life-giving blood. After he forced his breathing to slow and his mind to focus, he looked for changes in Lillian. At first he sensed no difference in her condition, and then she gasped in pain as spasms shook her body.

  Before he could react, she grasped both his shoulders and pushed him back against the altar. She straddled him, her body pressed against him as her lips sealed over the wound. Her throat worked as she swallowed. He grunted as passion stirred in his blood. He’d forgotten how sweet it felt to share blood with Lillian.

  Magic from the Spirit Realm thrummed through his veins and he released it into her. He continued to pour more and more into her, as much as she would take. Her breathing eased and her color improved with each passing moment. Recovery was swift. The wound on her shoulder was gone and only pale white lines marked the skin of her belly. He stroked his fingers over the area to reassure himself.

  After several moments Lillian stirred in his arms, pushing at his chest and putting a little space between them so she could lap at the blood making its way toward his abdomen. Lillian’s fingers skimmed lower, making him shiver. He savored her shocking caress a few moments before he tightened his arms around her shoulders to prevent her from following the trail of blood. Lillian made a soft sound of protest, which he did his best to ignore. When she was still again, he rested his chin on her hair and watched his enemy. Thanking the Lady of Battles wasn’t something he’d ever thought he’d contemplate in his life.

  “Thank you,” he whispered.

  “You’re welcome, Protector. You might return the favor by serving me… .”

  Gregory gently placed Lillian on the ground, then stood to face the Lady of Battles. “My allegiance cannot be bought or sold.”

  “Perhaps you’ll come to think differently. What would you be willing to do to save your beloved Sorceress when she’s carrying your youngling?” The Lady straightened from her crouch. “I think you’ll come to serve me to protect them from Divine wrath. You’ll have no choice. What a splendid addition to my army you will make, both of you.”

  “I will not serve you.”

  “Fight me if you wish, but I’ll still get what I want in the end. Wouldn’t it be better to come to me willingly? You could fulfill your deepest and oldest wish—to be with your Sorceress and reciprocate the deep love you share.”

  Gregory shook his head. “I won’t serve the Dark.”

  “We’ll see how long you last.” The Lady of Battles chuckled. “I think you’ll find my daughter has an aggressive side. One of the traits I i
nstilled in her. Oh, she’s overly protective of her gargoyle, too.” Chains rattled against each other as she leaned forward suddenly and gestured at something behind Gregory’s shoulder. “Beware!”

  Distracted by Lillian’s feeding and the Lady of Battles’ startling admission, he hadn’t heard the creature coming up behind him until too late. A cold sucking pain lodged itself in his back as the demon blade sunk deep. He twisted, lashing out at his attacker. A second dagger buried itself in his chest. He dropped to his knees, shock sapping his strength. He tugged at the second dagger, but he lacked strength and it wouldn’t release its grip.

  “Now that was foolish, little demon,” the Lady of Battles said. “You have angered my daughter.”

  “Gregory?” Lillian cried. She called to him again, her voice changing, becoming deeper, more menacing.

  Chapter 23

  Her gargoyle was hurt.

  Her beloved needed her.

  No one harmed her gargoyle and lived.

  Lillian screamed Gregory’s name even as the fraying coil of memories unraveled within her. New strength flooded her body. She burned and itched as her body began shifting into a new form. With a wet sound, the skin of her back parted and wings erupted from her shoulder blades. The new weight altered her balance and she dropped to all fours. Talons lengthened her fingers even as horns sprouted on her forehead. She shook herself from muzzle to tail tip, stretching and testing new muscles. Then as silent as death on a cold winter night, she stalked her prey.

  The demon boy remained hunched over Gregory, one hand braced against the gargoyle’s shoulder while the other gripped the hilt of a demon blade, the boy’s complete attention focused on killing her mate. Ecstasy radiated off the demon’s features as he fed, the look of pleasure made all the worse by the innocence of his softly curved lips, rounded cheeks, and thick lashes dark against his pale skin.

  A soft growl escaped her as she lunged at the unclean creature. The boy jerked his gaze in her direction, shock clear on his cherub-like face. At the last moment, her opponent twisted with inhuman speed. Her jaws closed upon empty air.

  With each beat of her heart, her gargoyle instincts sharpened. The breath-stealing stink of demon, a fluttering heartbeat, footfalls crunching through leaves—nothing escaped her heightened senses. Her second lunge landed her half on his back and she sank her teeth deep into the meat of his shoulder. But this demon was strong, fed additional strength from several of his brethren, and he bucked her off. She crashed to the ground with a grunt of pain. Even before she caught her breath, she rolled to her feet and took up a protective stance next to Gregory.

  Anger surged through her veins, pulsing in time to her heartbeat. She charged the demon again, snapping at it in a fit of fury. A vampire darted into the fight. It slashed at her flank. Its claws dug four shallow grooves across her skin. Snarling, she chased it. It wasn’t fast enough to get clear of her leap. She landed on its back and drove it into the ground. One bite to the back of its neck and she severed its spine. With a twist of powerful neck muscles, she beheaded the creature. The sharp odor of tainted blood and rot overwhelmed her sense of smell. Shaking her head, she sprang away from the demons, then returned to Gregory’s side.

  At the sight of the demon blades, rage flared to life again. She straddled Gregory, sheltering him from further attack with her own body while she shared magic with him.

  “Release him,” she ordered the demon blades. Neither was the one she’d remade, but they sensed darkness greater than themselves and leaped to obey. When the second had fallen to the ground, she nosed Gregory.

  Touching him bought her a moment of tranquility, the forgotten key to her innermost self, and the floodgate holding the magic of the Spirit Realm at bay opened.

  Power filled her as she stretched her wings toward the sky.

  The forest spat out three new demons. They circled her with caution as more of their brethren returned now that the Lady of Battles was gone. Her lips pulled back in a snarl while she waited.

  Come closer, she thought, and meet the Lady’s daughter.

  Her wings quivered with the strain of holding back. Blood pounded through her veins. She closed her eyes and waited.

  Demon. Dire wolf and Fae-blood slaves. They all returned, drawing nearer.

  Just a little more. Almost close enough.

  Her ears swung forward. There. The last of them stepped within range.

  She snapped her wings down and released the power, directing it as it surged from her body. Like the shockwave from a bomb, the power flew out in an ever-enlarging circle. Wind blasted between the tree branches and howled like a winter’s gale. A wild ecstasy filled her.

  She fed more and more power into the destroying wave.

  It should’ve been enough to level the forest for a kilometer in all directions, killing every last Riven—but a few of them were escaping her.

  Something else fed upon her power.

  Fury engulfed her. How dare it feed upon her?

  She turned toward the great sword at the north end of the meadow, and raised her hand to call defensive magic down upon it. Before she could attack the sword, it tapped into her strength, tearing control of her power from her. Ropes of fire spiraled up from the ground and covered the blade completely. The sword continued sucking air and magic toward it, until a tornado of fire towered above the trees. With earth-shaking violence, the sword opened the Veil.

  The bright flash blinded Lillian. While she was disoriented, the earth shivered with greater violence. It swayed and pitched under her feet. She rolled and crashed into Gregory.

  When the wildly fluctuating powers dissipated, the magic-driven winds calmed. The sword was gone by the time she dragged herself to her feet. Likely returned to its master to report all it had learned. Lillian flicked her tail in annoyance, but there was nothing she could do now to secure the weapon for the Lady of Battles.

  Ash drifted down, and soft flakes coated her and Gregory. The meadow was quiet again. She nuzzled Gregory in the shoulder, and he loosed a pained moan. After sniffing at his wounds, she licked them until they sealed over. He’d have more scars. She narrowed her eyes and growled, angry at herself. In the future, she needed to be more careful of her mate. He had a knack for gathering stab wounds.

  The wind picked up again, flowing through the forest from the Northwest. The stench of evil invaded her nose. She sneezed and pawed at her muzzle, but nothing cleared the magma of darkness that clung to her skin and mane, and coated the lining of her throat and lungs. Several of the Riven had escaped, thanks to the Lord of the Underworld’s sword.

  Had Gregory been stronger, they would have hunted together and destroyed the last of the Riven. She glanced to the Northwest, uncertain. To let the Riven escape was dangerous. She still had one weakness—her hamadryad. And if the Riven knew about her tree, they would attack her again. But the Riven’s territory was far from her tree, and she’d killed enough of the demons to weaken them. With their decreased numbers, the Riven couldn’t gather the power required to travel by magical means. It should take them at least a day to cover the distance.

  So the Riven would survive for a little longer; there was nothing she could do about that now.

  Clouds gathering on the horizon, and the damp smell of rain upon the wind helped her decide. Her mate needed healing and rest. And they both needed a better place to shelter until they were stronger. When Gregory could fly, they would return to her hamadryad and create impenetrable protections. Once that was done, she and her mate would hunt down the remaining Riven. She prodded Gregory in the shoulder again, shoving her head and shoulders under his chest to get him to his feet.

  “Get up, we need to find shelter.”

  Gregory stood on shaking legs, his eyes half-closed and his head hanging. Sweat slicked his sides in a way she didn’t like. Seeing him so weak tightened her stomach. She didn’t think he was even aware of her new form. Brushing his thoughts, she found he was still in shock and mostly unaware of what was g
oing on around him, but when she started forward, he followed. They made their way clear of what had once been a meadow but now looked more like a burnt-out crater. They walked for a few minutes and came upon the log cabin. It still stood. Only the back of the cabin showed damage, like a flash fire had scorched it. She bypassed the cabin, not wanting a shelter so close to the Riven’s territory.

  After walking for an hour, she found a small pond skirted with trees and a wealth of underbrush. Deer and rabbits moved among the trees, unaware predators walked among the shadows. Here Gregory could rest while she hunted.

  He still hadn’t snapped out of shock. Her protective instincts roused at the thought of leaving him, even to hunt, but he needed food to grow strong again.

  The breeze carried a whiff of fawn. Her stomach rumbled.

  Gregory collapsed among the undergrowth, his eyes closed. He rested, but she knew he hadn’t fallen asleep. She waited, hoping sleep would claim him. Fifteen minutes passed and she rose on silent feet. She’d only taken three steps when he grunted and sat up.

  “I’ll hunt for us. Stay,” she ordered. She returned to his side and rubbed her muzzle alongside his. His scent called to her. It was hard to think when they were so close.

  He returned her gesture of affection with a contented sigh. His thoughts were still drowsy, blurred by equal parts magical exhaustion and shock from blood loss. Obedient to her tone, he laid back down to wait.

  *

  The weight of the buck strained the muscles in her neck, but she tightened her jaws and continued to drag the deer along the pond’s muddy shore. Two more powerful heaves and the carcass landed next to Gregory.

  His nose quivered, but he didn’t stir, and she noticed his skin had taken on the seeming of stone. If she didn’t get food into him soon, he’d turn to stone to heal. And this location was still too close to where the Riven had established their territory for him to do that safely.