Rise (War Witch Book 1)

by Cain S. Latrani

  Esteban seized him before he knew what had happened, hoisting him up to glare at him. "Suggest such a thing again, and I will leave what's left of you in the garbage."

  "Easy now, laddie," Bit said with a nervous chuckle. "I didn't mean no harm in it. Just making idle speculation, what with me not knowin' the lass in person and all. I'm sure she's a right upstanding sort, all prim and proper like."

  Setting him down, Esteban sighed heavily. "My apologies, Mr. Nittick. I'm worried for my beloved. Forgive my temper."

  "Beloved, is it now?" he chuckled, tidying his shirt. "Quite the lady to be taken such a large boy as yerself as a lover. Make me have a good bit'a respect for her, it do."

  Scowling, Esteban turned away and resumed stalking down the street, taking in each scent carefully. "I will thank you not to speak of her in such a manner."

  Sagging, the Halfling trotted after him. "I be owin' you an apology or three, friend. I'm not the most what we call socially graceful people about. I tend to spend half me life with my foot in me mouth. I don't be meanin' no ill will, just running my tongue without a thought to yer feelins."

  "Speak of it no more, and it'll be forgotten," Esteban grunted.

  Seeing that was as good as he was going to get, Bit accepted it. "Tell me a bit about the fair damsel, will ye?"

  "What do you care?”

  He shrugged. "Friend to two'a the finest Blessed I ever been knowin', and a lover to a great big Werefolk like yerself, makes a man wanna ask after her disposition."

  Glancing down at the Halfling, Esteban sighed heavily. "If you must know, she's a very intelligent, capable woman, with a fierce side that encourages me to stay in her good graces."

  Giving the Were a sardonic look, Bit grinned. "Makes me think we be doin' things wrong way around then."

  "How's that?"

  "Might should be havin' the lass come lookin' for us, as we seem to be the ones with nary a clue what we be doin'."

  Even though he didn't want to, Esteban laughed at that. Slightly relieved to be on better footing with the big Cat, Bit began plotting a new way to approach their problems. They just had to find the other half of the equation, first.

  "The question then," Sabra muttered. "Is how do you go about finding one woman in a city this size."

  Leto nodded. "That's a very fair question. I suppose we could start at the public places, just to rule them out."

  Sabra gave a doubting look. "I'm sure that will take a few days at least."

  "Rick does seem to have us looking for a needle in a haystack," the Blessed of Grannax agreed.

  The Ogre gave him a curious look for a moment, then decided to go ahead and ask, "So, what is this girl to you anyway?"

  "A friend," he replied.

  "Nothing more?"

  Leto gave a small laugh. "No, nothing more. She's spoken for, and even if she weren't, I doubt strongly I would be the kind of man she'd be interested in."

  "The big Cat, you mean," she chuckled.

  "Well, yes," he said. "Though, I think were Esteban not in the picture, she'd most likely have already taken up with Ramora."

  "Well, that at least I can understand," Sabra said as she scanned the crowded street they walked down. "That woman is enough to make me consider exploring the option of a human lover."

  "She is quite remarkable," Leto agreed.

  Sabra gave a slight snort. "Yes, we're all aware of how you see her."

  Feeling a flush wash up his face, Leto quickly replied, saying, "It isn't like that."

  "Please," the Blessed of Verea chuckled. "Even Tanna could see the way you were moon-eying the woman, and she's blind."

  "I wasn't moon-eying," he muttered.

  "And I'm not green as the trees," the Ogre laughed.

  Flustered, Leto watched the windows as they passed by a string of shops. "Not that it matters. I doubt she thinks of me the same way. Even if she did, I'm not sure how I'd go about approaching her."

  "Just declare that you wish to fuck her," Sabra shrugged.

  Leto slumped. "I've reached the point I'm listening to romantic advice from an Ogre."

  Sabra gave him an annoyed glare. "Among my people, when someone finds someone else appealing, they simply say so. They're either accepted, or rejected, and that's that."

  "It isn't so simple with her, though," he pointed out. "You know her history. I can't just walk up and go, hey baby, wanna see my other divine spear."

  A look of dismay and humor washed over the Ogre's face. "Yeah, probably best not to go with that line."

  "I don't want to offend her," he admitted, shaking his head. "I respect her as much as I like her. It isn't just that she's beautiful, it's that she has this amazing heart, sharp mind, and lovely soul."

  "So, you want to do more than just have a good fuck, is what you're saying?" Sabra asked, looking confused. "I guess you could try for that. Don't see why, but whatever."

  Leto sighed, giving her a pathetic glance. "I don't know. Maybe. I mean, yes, I'd like that, but who knows where else it could go, you know? It might be something special."

  "Yeah, I can't see her having a bunch of kids, so you know," Sabra replied, skeptical.

  "See, this is why I always let women take the lead," he grumbled. "They know what they want. It's just easier to let them be in charge of things."

  Patting him on the shoulder, the Ogre gave him a sympathetic smile. "You're a real natural leader, all right."

  "This isn't like war," he complained. "It's more complicated."

  "Everything is like war," she quipped.

  "Spoken like a true Ogre," he sighed.

  "Why thank you." She grinned.

  Flick stared at the street sign for a minute, twirling his mustache as Izra tapped her foot impatiently. Frowning, he concentrated, summoning all of the experience, intellect, and skill at his disposal, and patiently waited for a flare of insight.

  "What are you doing?" Izra finally asked.

  "I'm thinking like an eighteen-year-old human girl," he replied.

  The Deep Elf stared at him in confusion, which faded to consternation, and finally to horror. "Please, don't ever do that, or say that, ever again."

  With a deep sigh of annoyance, he looked up at her. "Now I've lost my focus and need to start again."

  "No," she urged. "You really, really don't."

  "Well, how else am I supposed to discern likely places to look for the child?" he grumbled.

  "I dunno," Izra replied, tone heavy with reproach. "If only we had a woman we could ask for help."

  Flick snorted. "What good would that do?"

  "Seriously?" Izra balked.

  "For certain," he told her. "I've got six sisters, eight aunts, twenty-two great aunts, thirty-four she cousins, and we all lived in the same manor house. Trust me, I have insight into the female mind."

  "I'm a woman, you dolt," she screamed.

  Flick looked her over. "That you are. Congratulations. Now hush, I need to concentrate."

  Grinding her teeth, Izra seized him by the mustache, jerking him around to look at her. "That means I have a female mind!"

  "I suppose you could look at it that way," he grinned. "But I'd wager you have the biggest balls of anyone I've ever met."

  Letting go of his facial hair, Izra straightened, beaming down at him. "Do you mean that?"

  "I do," he assured her.

  "Aw, Flicky, you say the sweetest things," she cooed.

  Smirking, the Dwarf turned back to the street sign and began gathering himself once more. He figured it would take the Elf a bit to realize what had happened.

  "Hey, wait a minute," Izra bellowed.

  "Oh, you're quicker than I thought," he muttered, running for his life.

  "Come back here, you... squat... person!" she roared.

  "Nice comeback!" he called over his shoulder. "Now that I've got you in such a state, where's the first place you want to go?"

  "However far my foot will fit up your ass!" she snarled.

  "Flick,
old fellow, you've gone and pulled the tiger by the tail this time," he sighed.

  As much as he hated to admit it, his great-aunt Mathilda was right. He was crap with women and needed to find himself a nice boyfriend. He had time to snicker at that before Izra had him by his collar and yanked him down onto the street with a heavy thud.

  "I'm gonna make you eat those words," she snarled.

  "Chara," Flick said.

  Catching herself, the Deep Elf unclenched her fist. "You're right. We should be focusing on finding her. This isn't over, though."

  "No, you silly Elf, Chara!" he exclaimed, jabbing a finger.

  Turning to follow it, Izra gasped in shock.

  "Rick!" they shouted.

  Ramora scanned the heavily-populated street, growing exasperated. There were simply too many people, and too many shops. Throwing her hands up, she began to realize the futility of this task.

  "Easy, sister," Tanna said, dropping a hand to her shoulder. "Even a needle may be found in a haystack, if you first learn to ignore the hay."

  Ramora cocked an eyebrow, having no idea what that meant.

  "It means, learn to ignore the crowd, and search for a single face," the Troll replied.

  The warrior stared at her for a moment in surprise. Screwing her face up, she waved a hand over the Troll's blindfold, wondering if she was really blind.

  "I am, yes," Tanna told her with a mild chuckle. "Since birth. I've never seen the world the way you do."

  Nodding, Ramora felt bad for having doubted her. Trolls would never resort to such cheap theatrics as that, she knew. They were a far too honorable people.

  "I'm grateful for your kindness, and gladly accept your apology, daughter of Ramor," Tanna said, sweeping the street with her unseeing eyes. "However, I'm able to see after a fashion."

  Ramora focused really hard on thinking of her question as to how that worked.

  "Not with telepathy," the Troll answered, giving her a slightly sarcastic grin. "I'm able to see auras. I cannot say why that is. Perhaps Neglis sought to Bless me from a young age, and granted me an extra gift when I was but a babe. I don't know. What I do know is that in a person’s aura, you can see their every thought, emotion, desire, fear, and hope."

  Considering that for a moment, Ramora suddenly felt a little vulnerable. Her rush to look for Chara would've easily betrayed her to her companion. Or worse, exposed her hidden dreams where the young woman was concerned.

  "Yes, I see them clearly," Tanna admitted. "Though, they are of no concern to me. I learned long ago not to judge people based on what I saw of their true heart. Your secrets are safe with me, sister."

  Smiling softly, Ramora nodded to her. It didn't matter she couldn't see the motion, her intent would carry through, and did when the Troll nodded back. Reaching out, she took hold of Tanna's hand and squeezed it, feeling comforted by her solid presence.

  Perhaps Rick had known what he was doing after all when teaming the blind woman with the mute one.

  "It wouldn't surprise me," the Blessed of Neglis said. "He's far wiser than he shows. A most guarded man, that one, but pure of heart. I respect him greatly."

  Feeling less overwhelmed, Ramora tugged at Tanna's hand, and started into the crowd, scanning, ignoring anyone that didn't look like Chara. Learn to see the needle, not the hay, she told herself. Focus, clear everything else out, and focus just on what you need to find.

  Behind her, Tanna gripped her hand a little tighter, seeing her aura spiral white and silver out of the gloom that'd gathered in it. What a remarkable woman, the daughter of Ramor. The Troll doubted she saw her own resilience, determination, and strength of will, which was a shame. It made her exquisitely beautiful.

  "Ramora," Rick called, flickering into being before them. "Tanna, hold up. I think we've got something."

  "Speak it," the Troll intoned.

  "Woman, about eighteen, five-foot-seven, expressive hazel eyes, long auburn hair, mischievous grin," he said, repeating the description he'd gotten from Flick and Izra.

  Ramora nodded, as Tanna confirmed to Rick. "That does sound very much like her friend. Where is she?"

  "South side, on Beadermen's Lane, in a tavern called Gracie's, playing Masters," the Blessed of Terakus said.

  Tanna smirked discreetly. "That's her. Ramora is sure of it."

  "Got it," he nodded. "I'll alert the rest. Head that way."

  Tanna couldn't see the dark scowl on Ramora's face as she turned and headed off at a run, but she could see the angry red spiraling out through her aura. It would appear Miss Chara was about to get her ass kicked by her best friend.

  Tanna kind of wished she could actually see that.

  The afternoon was wearing late when Ramora arrived at Gracie's Tavern, skidding to a stop outside the wide folding doors that stood open, where a cluster of people had gathered. Pushing through them with the Troll on her heels, she quickly spotted Izra.

  Smiling brightly, the Deep Elf saw them as well, and waved them over. Growing ever more agitated, Ramora looked to Tanna, who simply nodded, invoking her Divine Gift and lifting people out of the way using their own shadows. Ignoring the squawks of shock and outrage, the Blessed of Ramor stormed through the path the Troll made.

  At the bar, Leto and Sabra watched her, and sank down a little, in no hurry to incur her wrath. They didn't need to see her aura to know she was royally pissed.

  She stopped short, agitation turning to shock as she spotted Chara, leaning back in her seat, a thin cigar hanging from her lips. Across from her, Flick stared at the game board in utter dismay. Between them, a stack of nearly a hundred gold tritters.

  Outrage boiling over, Ramora stalked up to her young friend and glared down at her with an indignant scowl. Chara glanced up, her smile widening as she waved to her.

  "Heya, Ramora," she said. "What are you doing here?"

  The Blessed waved a hand at the table, her fingers flashing as Flick slumped, sobbing quietly.

  Chara considered her for a moment. "I told you, I'm not the honorable one. You are."

  Ramora insisted it didn't matter as Chara swept the gold from the table and into her satchel, already swollen with money. Seeing that, Ramora nearly hit the ceiling.

  "Calm down," Chara told her. "I didn't hustle anybody. I just offered to play them for money. Not my fault they didn't win."

  Esteban came plowing through the crowd, Bit riding piggyback. "Chara! Beloved! Thank the Gods you're safe."

  Spotting her boyfriend, Chara's face fell. "I knew I forgot to do something. Hi, honey!"

  Ramora slammed a hand down on the table, glaring at the young woman. Chara sighed, pushing back to stand, slinging the heavy bag over her shoulder. Flick whimpered something about his gold and flopped out of his chair onto the floor. Izra nudged him with her foot.

  "Oy, this be the lass we been runnin' bout in search for, then?" Bit asked.

  "It is," Esteban sighed happily. "Beloved, I feared you had been kidnapped!"

  Chara gave him an annoyed look. "Why would you think that? Is that why Ramora's here? She's got more important things to do, you know. Why is there a small man on your back?"

  "Greetings, milady," Bit said as he swung himself down. "Bit Nittick, Blessed of Amaron, at yer service."

  Chara gave a disbelieving moan. "Oh, come on, honey! You did not go drag them all out of training for this, did you?"

  "Oh, he did," Izra giggled. "He was in a real state, too. All crying and screaming your name. It was very romantic, in a desperate sort of way."

  Ramora turned her glare on the Elf, who sank back, mouthing “sorry”. Swinging back to Chara, she found the young woman massaging her temple. "Really? Esteban, seriously. We've talked about this."

  "You said you were just going to the cafe down the street," he whined.

  "Well, yeah," she snorted. "If I'd told you I was going to come play Masters for money, you wouldn't have let me."

  Ramora's fingers jerked about in anger.

  "I did not hust
le them," Chara snapped back. "Gods above, woman, can't you even read a sign?"

  Following the sweep of Chara's arm, Ramora took in the banner tacked up at the back of the bar. Monthly Masters Meet! Play! Win! Gold!

  Slack-jawed, Ramora took the sign in for a long time, then looked back down, seeing the infuriated look on the young woman's face. Holding her hands up, she tried to think of something to say, but ended up just standing there.

  Shaking her head, Chara gave a weary sigh. "Really. At least look around before you get all wound up. I mean, it didn't even occur to you once that I did everything above board. Says a lot about how you see me."

  Bit peeked in her satchel, whistling. "Pray tell, lass, how many folks you beat to win that kinda cash?"

  "Um," Chara said, thinking about it for a minute. "All of them?"

  "Ya don't say?" the Halfling replied, grinning broadly.

  Ramora shook her head, demanding Chara return the money.

  "Why?" she cried.

  "Yeah, why?" Bit asked.

  "Gold," Flick whimpered.

  Ramora pointed out that it hadn't been fair. Chara knew her own skill level with the game, and had used it to take advantage of a group of casual players. Returning the money was the honorable thing to do.

  "Not to disagree, sweetie," Izra put in. "But the sign doesn't say anything about skill level."

  "No kidding," Chara snapped. "Besides, they deserved to lose!"

  Ramora shook her head, telling her they did not.

  "Really?" Chara said, crossing her arms over her chest. "So, that guy over there who asked if I was going to bet my twat, he didn't deserve to get beaten? Is that what you're saying?"

  The warrior turned a deadly glare on the man Chara pointed at, sending him scampering from the tavern.

  "Or that guy, over there, who told me little girls have no place in a man's game. He didn't deserve to get beaten by me? Really?" Chara challenged.

  Ramora sagged a little. Izra snickered.

  "Or maybe, you mean that guy over there, who promised that after he spanked me, he was going to spank me, wink, wink, ha ha," Chara grated out. "I should give him back his money? Is that what you really think?"