Rise (War Witch Book 1)

by Cain S. Latrani

  A sob rose up in her throat as her anger was replaced by pain. Tears burning her eyes, she covered her mouth and sank to the floor, sorrow washing through her like a wave. Devastated, she buried her face in her knees and wailed against the harshness of reality.

  Rakiss knelt by her, watching her sadly. "I am so sorry I must do this to you. I have no choice. One day, you will thank me."

  Chara's mind whirled in a hurricane of turmoil as she tried to understand it all. How someone she'd loved so much could've treated her this way. Nothing about it made sense.

  "She doesn't love you," Rakiss whispered in her ear, broadening the grief that flowed through her aura like an angry purple wave. "She never did. It was pity, nothing more, for a foolish girl from a small village who didn't know anything at all."

  Her heart crumbling, Chara felt her world spiraling away from her. She really was nobody, from nowhere. She may as well have married Hale at this point. It couldn't have hurt worse than this.

  "Your parents foisted you onto her, knowing it was easier for them than if you ran away," Rakiss pressed, finding her dismay and self-loathing, winding them up in her grief and spinning her aura ever darker. "She's just putting up with you until she can drop you off somewhere and get you out of her hair."

  Horrified at the thought, Chara realized she'd left them no other option. If she'd just been what they wanted, this never would've happened. If she'd just been the dutiful daughter, she wouldn't know this kind of agony.

  Spotting this, Rakiss twirled it till it was plump and dark, tying it to the despair and grief. "Not like they knew what kind of a girl you really were, though, now is it? If they had, they might have let you run away, to spare themselves the humiliation of being the parents of the village whore."

  Chara pulled herself into a tight ball, a sob choking her as she saw the horrible truth of the life she'd made for herself. There was no going back home, not now, and no future at Ramora's side. She was lost, alone, and wanted by none.

  Watching carefully, Rakiss saw her aura darken further, almost fully black now. Smiling, he placed a spot of gold in it, billowing it out as he said, "That's not entirely true. There's Esteban. He needs you. He wants you. He loves you. With him, there's a chance."

  Face red with tears and pain, lips trembling, she lay on her side and thought about that. At least, with him, she wouldn't be a whore. At least, with him, she could be happy. It was all she had now. There was nothing else left.

  "Rakiss! What are you doing?"

  Spinning on his heel, he saw Adalynn standing in the hallway behind him, eyes wide with horror at the way he manipulated the young woman in front of him. Scowling, he dismissed her with a wave of his hand, turning back to Chara. It was almost enough. He was almost there.

  "Stop that this instant!" she cried, seizing him by the shoulder and pulling him back from the young woman.

  He knocked her hand away and rose, glaring at her. "This is no concern of yours. Leave us be."

  "I will not," she snapped, eyes bright with defiance. "You are an Ascended! You are forbidden from doing this! What’re you even thinking?"

  "I'm doing what must be done," he growled, shoving her back. "Go tend to the old man. The girl is my responsibility."

  "Responsibility?" Adalynn gasped. "Rakiss, you are destroying her!"

  "I am guiding her," he bellowed. "I am forging her.”

  Shaking her head, Adalynn tried to slip past him, but he caught her by the arm, holding her back. "Let go of me! I have to undo this! If Grannax finds out what you've done, he will banish you from Heaven!"

  "Then I guess he can't find out, now can he?" the other Ascended growled.

  Adalynn started. "What is that supposed to mean?"

  "It means, you won't be telling anyone anything, or I'll have to tell him how you've befriended a soul you've been sent to gather. You know that's against the rules as well."

  "Terakus knows what I've done," she snapped. "Frankly, it is no business of yours anyway."

  "But does Grannax know?" he asked.

  Adalynn stiffened, eyes bright with anger. "Tell him. See if I care. Leave the girl alone, though. Repair the damage you've caused and stay away from her."

  Rakiss drug her back a few steps. "I will not. Threaten me if you must. Report me if that's what it takes. My Mistress will defend me. You have no power here, so be gone."

  Shocked, Adalynn pulled free of him. "What has happened to you, Rakiss? If this about Emiline..."

  "Be quiet," he yelled. "Do not think you have a right to speak of that, not ever. You aren't worthy to say her name."

  The Ascended of Terakus' face darkened. "You were not the first Ascended to lose a Blessed in battle, Rakiss. This, though… you know this is wrong. You cannot replace her."

  "Coming from someone who has never known what that guardianship over a Blessed feels like, that means nothing," he laughed. "I'm not trying to replace her, anyway, so do yourself a favor and be quiet before I silence you."

  "Are you threatening me?" she asked, stunned.

  Rakiss face smoothed somewhat, regret creeping into his eyes. "I will do what I must, Adalynn. I'm sorry, but I will. Speak of this to no one. Ever."

  "Oh, I understand all too well," she replied, voice thick with rage. "You should remember whom I serve, though, and the power I wield before making threats against me, or any other Ascended."

  "I'm aware," he shrugged. "But you are limited to those who are near death, by law. This girl is not under your purview. What can you do?"

  "I can speak with your Mistress," she shot back.

  "Do so, then," he said, turning to show his lack of a tail. "She will not hear you, and if she will not, neither will Grannax."

  Thrown by this, she could only scowl as he took another look at Chara's aura, seeing that the gold he placed had grown, her soul clinging to the lifeline it offered desperately.

  "Not that it matters now," he murmured. "I have what I sought. Do not cross me again, Adalynn."

  She watched as he vanished in a swirl of lights. Angry, but realizing her own impotence in the matter, she could only look down at the sobbing mortal sadly. What had been done to her was beyond cruel, and she was powerless to do anything about it. For the first time in her immortal life, she resented the laws the Gods had laid down to govern the Ascended.

  "I am sorry, young one," she whispered. "Please, survive this."

  With that, she was gone as well, leaving Chara alone with her grief, sorrow, and despair.

  Chapter Seventeen

  FOLLOWING CHARA’S OUTBURST, Ramora stayed in the library all night, not returning to the room she'd been sharing with the young woman. Imicot had eventually departed, weary beyond words, with Esteban at his side, leaving her alone with her thoughts as she searched one book after another for some sign or clue of what she sought.

  She sat there, at the table, staring blankly at the book before her, not even seeing the words. Her heart felt ragged as she tried to understand what'd happened. Chara had refused to hear her out before, but never like this. Even the worst of their arguments couldn't begin to compare.

  Exhausted, frustrated, and hurt, she pushed the book away, leaning back to stare up at nothing. She could only hope that the young woman would be more willing to listen later, and understand that she hadn't tried to mislead her, or deceive her in any way.

  By the next morning, however, Chara showed no signs of relenting in her anger. Over breakfast, she sat as far as she could from the Blessed, and while she continued helping in the research, she did so from the other side of the room, refusing to even look at her.

  Imicot advised that at her age, everything seemed catastrophic, but she would come around. Ramora nodded, taking the old sorcerer's advice and not pressing the matter.

  The days wore on, another week passing as the two avoided each other. Ramora had begun taking her meals in the library, and only returned to their rooms when Chara wasn't there. Her heart ached to reach out to her, but every attempt was r
ebuffed, the young woman's anger unrelenting.

  Silently, Ramora grieved, slowly turning back to her former belief. Attachments were weapons you handed the Demon Seed so they could rip out your heart. Watching the woman she loved from afar, banned from participating in her smiles, her laughs, Ramora accepted that again. Chara had made a choice to not allow her back into her life, and Ramora knew the only honorable thing left to her was to accept it.

  At night, alone in the library, she wept.

  As that day drew to a close, Imicot suffered a bout of coughing that caused him to collapse on the floor, gasping for air. Desperate, Ramora pulled upon her magic, her Rabbit singing power into the runes she traced on Imicot, channeling healing energy that eased his suffering and allowed him to breathe again.

  "I'm afraid I'm done for the day," he wheezed as he slowly recovered.

  "I will take you to your rooms," Esteban said quickly, stooping to assist the old sorcerer.

  Imicot waved him away. "No, you stay, help Ramora. Chara can get me there, can't you, my dear?"

  "If that's what you want, of course," she nodded quickly, grateful to not be alone with the Blessed.

  He smiled as she eased him up. "Thank you, child. I just need some rest. Fear not."

  As they left the Cat and the warrior alone, Esteban watched them go, concern marring his face. Ramora eyed them discreetly, but accepted things as they were and started to walk away.

  "Ramora," Esteban said softly. "She will speak with you again. You know that, don't you?"

  She stood for a moment then shook her head.

  "I will tell her, then," he declared as he turned to face her. "I’ll explain why you cannot write your name. Once she understands, she will relent in this anger."

  Ramora offered him a kind smile, but only shook her head again. Without thinking of what she was doing, she signed that it was for Chara to decide when to let go of her rage, no one else. The words already formed, she shook her head, realizing Esteban couldn't understand them.

  He stood, grimacing as he tried to figure it out, wanting to know what she'd tried to say. With a sigh, she returned to the table and wrote it out, handing it to him. Reading it, his sadness only grew.

  "I cannot abide as my friends suffer," he told her. "Surely, if I were to speak with her, it would help."

  Ramora patted him on the arm. She took back the note and wrote out another. She handed it to him before she walked away, returning to the stacks of books in search of the only thing she had left to her now.

  Esteban held the note, rereading it several times before letting his hands fall limp at his side, the paper drifting away. Turning the way she'd gone, he watched as she sorted through books, the grief, sorrow and loss etched plainly on her face.

  Why must even the Blessed suffer, he wondered, turning to go back to his own research, stepping over the note without looking at it again. He couldn't. It hurt too much.

  "She doesn't love me anymore."

  Chara eased Imicot onto his bed, steadying the old man as he lay back, fumbling with the blankets. As she helped him, he sighed heavily and smiled.

  "It doesn’t look as if we'll be getting that rematch after all."

  Chara shook her head as she poured him a glass of water. "Of course we will. Don't say that. You've got time still."

  "No, I don't think I do," he said, shaking his head. "It's drawing near now, and I admit, I am rather glad. Better to go now, forgiven, happy, surrounded by friends and family, and having met the greatest Masters prodigy I've ever seen."

  "Now you’re just flirting," Chara told him, blushing.

  He grinned. "Perhaps a little. Forgive an old man."

  "I already have," she said, leaning in to kiss him on the head. "Flirt away."

  "Ah, Chara," he sighed, gripping her hand loosely. "Would that I had more time. I'm thankful to know you, and Ramora as well."

  Chara looked away. "I can only speak for myself, but I’m blessed to have gotten to meet you, too."

  Squeezing her hand, he motioned for her to sit, which she did easily. "Forgive her, dear. She tried to tell you. Every time she tries to write her name, she's flooded with horrible memories. I don't know what they are, but her hand shakes so violently, she cannot do it."

  "It's not that I didn't figure that out," Chara admitted after a moment. "It's that she didn't tell me. She never told me."

  "Some things are too terrible to speak of," Imicot pointed out.

  Chara nodded slowly, feeling tears in her eyes again. "I know. And I know what happened to her. I understand it. It's just that, every time I look at her, I feel so angry, all over again. I thought she needed me to stand by her, to be her voice."

  "One does not simply carry paper and ink around for every little thing, you know," he said with a smile.

  "That's the whole thing," Chara replied, exhausted. "I know that, too! I don't know why I'm so mad at her. No matter how I look at it, or think of it, she's done nothing wrong. Still, I just can't bring myself to forgive her. It doesn't make any sense, but I've not made any sense, even to myself, in weeks."

  Feeling there was more she wanted to say, Imicot urged softly, "Go on. I'm listening."

  "When I first met her, she saved my life from Demon Seed," Chara said slowly. "She was the most amazing, wonderful, beautiful thing I'd ever seen. I caught myself looking up to her, lusting after her a bit, or more than a bit, and the thing of it was, I wanted to be more like her, and less like me."

  "That doesn't sound so bad," he admitted. "I can see it."

  "Yeah," she nodded. "But then, before I knew it, I felt like I was falling in love with her. That doesn't make sense though, even though she helped me get out of an arranged marriage my mother had planned for me. It was so fast, so sudden. Thinking about it now, it seems absurd."

  Imicot frowned a little. "Not really. It isn't that uncommon to feel like we love the people we idolize."

  "No, it isn't, I know," she sighed. "But since we got here, it seemed like maybe she felt the same way one minute, then not the next. It doesn't make sense. Everything was just so chaotic. I can't even sort out how I really feel about anything, and honestly, if she really knew me, she wouldn't want me around anyway."

  "I doubt that," he told her. "It's clear she cares for you a great deal."

  "Maybe," she agreed. "But she doesn't know the real me. The girl from Rheumer, who didn't want either life she was offered."

  "I don't understand," he said.

  She smiled bitterly. "Wife and mother, that's the life we're told all women want in Fival. That's all we need. It's that, or it's a life as a whore. I didn't want to choose between the two. I wanted something else, even though I didn't know what it was. I struggled with it, made mistakes, did things I'm not proud of, with people I'm not sure I should have. That's the real me. A farm girl who can't stand her own life, wants to be free, and doesn't even know what the word means."

  Imicot felt for her. So much sorrow at such a young age. Yet, so self-aware, enough to be able to criticize her own actions, choices, and thoughts. Again, he saw that wild streak in her, the one that refused to be penned in, sought new avenues where others might not see them, and boldly chased them even though most would play it safe.

  He found her wonderful at that moment.

  "Chara, may I offer the advice of an old man who has made his share of mistakes?"

  Suddenly aware of herself, she grimaced. "I'm so sorry, Imicot. Here I am, complaining about such small things, when you've known real grief. Forgive me, please."

  "Oh, now, never mind that," he chuckled. "Our own grief always seems to be the worst when we speak of it, because we experienced it firsthand. Think nothing of it, child. You have nothing to apologize for."

  "Still," she hesitated.

  "Trust me on this," he pressed. "You were never meant to choose between two such simple lives. I see it, all around you, and in your eyes. You are greater than you think. Forget where you come from, dear, and think of where you want to go.
Life is a game of Masters, and you will excel at it, if you only let yourself."

  Bowing her head, Chara stared off at nothing. "Maybe. I just don't know how to make the opening move. I thought Ramora was it, but now, I don't know anymore. Farm girl or not, I'm no Blessed, and what she's chasing, I don't know if I can follow her all the way."

  "Then make your own path," he said.

  "Easier said than done," she told him, shaking her head, voice rueful. "A woman alone can only go so far."

  Imicot smiled at her. "Who said you had to be alone?"

  "Um, I guess I did," she replied, startled. "Why?"

  "My son, Esteban, will be alone in the world soon, as well. A Werefolk, in this world, he will not fare well, I fear. Even in his home realm, he would be a stranger. With you, however, he could see the world, be safe from those who would harm him, and know a true friend."

  Chara thought about that for a moment, the feelings she'd been having for him swimming up again. "You want him to leave with us?"

  "I do, you mostly," he nodded. "As you said, where Ramora seeks to go, I do not think he can follow. You, on the other hand, well, think of it a moment. A young woman traveling with a Werejaguar would need fear little. A Werejaguar traveling with a young woman would be taken as a bodyguard. Together, you could both go further than you ever could alone."

  "That's true," she said softly. "How does he feel about this?"

  Imicot shrugged. "He has refused to deal with my impending death. I doubt he’s thought much of what will come after."

  "Of course," she nodded. "Why would he?"

  "Perhaps you could broach the subject with him," Imicot suggested, following the script Rakiss had given him. "Take him by the hand, as it were, love him in my stead? Show him the ways of the world as I never could?"

  Chara felt a pang deep down. "If that is what you want, I will do it."

  "It is my deepest desire now, that my boy be well, and loved," he smiled.

  "Then I swear, I'll be there for him," she said.

  Imicot sighed, relaxing back in the bed. "Thank you, Chara. The last of my worries are lifted."

  She smiled, holding his hand until he drifted to sleep. Leaving him to rest, she started down the steps to her room. She paused midway, thinking of what Imicot had asked. The pang went through her again.