Rise (War Witch Book 1)

by Cain S. Latrani

  "Then go, be the light," the big Cat growled. "I won't let Chara's life be endangered needlessly."

  Untar nodded as he moved to sit and pull his boots on. "I understand that sentiment, Esteban. We all seek to protect that which is most precious to us. If I may, however, ask you but a single question?"

  "What?"

  Untar looked at him. "What does she want?"

  Esteban sagged, looking to Chara. Her shock, and even her outrage had passed, leaving her with a determined look. He knew what she wanted. He knew what she would always want.

  "We stand," she said. "We fight back."

  "Very well," he sighed.

  "You can stay here, if that's what you want," Chara told him.

  He shook his head. "I cannot be anywhere, but at your side, my love."

  Nodding Chara turned to Untar. "He'll need a weapon. Do you have one?"

  "I have a castle full of weapons," Untar told her as he stood. "We just need to get to them."

  "Then let's go," she replied, pulling her mystic weapons. "I'll take the lead with Esteban. Leena, you watch Untar's back. Without him, we're pretty well screwed."

  "I think you over-value me," the King said, holding out his hand. "Without Riari, I cannot call upon my Divine Gift. I'll need a weapon as well."

  "Great, a broken Blessed, just what we need," Chara moaned. "Okay, we need to get to an armory without drawing too much attention to ourselves. Where's the nearest one?"

  "I wouldn't say I'm broken," Untar muttered as he crossed the room and stepped into the study. "I still know more about this castle than anyone alive, after all."

  "Forgive me," Chara told him, glancing back to the bathroom. "I didn't mean it that way."

  "I know," he answered quietly. "I can't think about it right now. My city, and my people, need their King. As for weapons, I have a private stash."

  Tugging on a book, he stepped back as the shelf groaned and swung outward, revealing a hidden door. Torches lit themselves as they stepped into his private armory, the narrow chamber lined with weapons of every type. On the far end, a narrow flight of stairs descended into darkness.

  Esteban picked up a poleaxe, nodding to himself as the king took up a broadsword, giving it a test swing. Leena examined the weapons, choosing to add a set of throwing knives to her curved daggers. Chara stuck to her guns, having no real skill with anything else.

  "Where's this lead?" she asked, nodding to the stairs.

  "The throne hall," Untar replied. "Which is our first stop."

  "The tablet," Leena said softly.

  "Indeed," the King said. "If we can get it to work, then we can win the day with ease."

  "What tablet?" Esteban asked.

  "Best if I just show you," Untar told him, leading the way down the stairs, torches flaring to life as he descended, Leena on his heels.

  Shrugging, Chara and Esteban followed.

  Ramora and Leto gained the wall as Chara and Esteban wound their way down. It only took them a moment to grasp the severity of the situation. Still, they could only stare in horror in that heartbeat, for what they found was something neither of them ever thought possible.

  Untar stood a good ten yards away, watching as soldiers of Lansing slaughtered their fellows.

  "Have you lost all your senses?” Leto bellowed.

  Looking over at them, Untar shrugged with a smile. "It's all good sport. We did give them a fighting chance, after all."

  Spotting Rills and his squad struggling farther down the wall, Ramora tagged Leto and pointed. His face hardened at the sight of the erstwhile Lieutenant fighting for his life against impossible odds. They weren't going to last long.

  "Stop this, Untar," Leto implored. "Think of what you're doing."

  "I have thought of it," the King replied with a grin. "Then I realized, to Hells with it. You would do well to stand with me, boy, or you'll face the same fate as your friends downstairs."

  A grimace crossed Ramora's face as she thought of their friends dead by the hand of the man they'd trusted, who had gathered them. She didn't know how, or why, Untar had betrayed Heaven, but she was going to make him pay for it.

  "Tell you what," Untar said with a laugh. "Kneel to me now, and I'll let you keep the woman as a plaything. How's that for a deal?"

  "Never," Leto growled as he lifted his hand. "You have betrayed this city, the people who put their faith, trust, and hope in you as their King, and worse, you have betrayed your calling as a Blessed of the Emperor of Heaven. I will show you no mercy!"

  Light gathered, the Sunspear forming in his hand as he invoked his Divine Gift. The effect on Untar and the soldiers who backed him was instant. Before the Holy Light of Grannax, none could hide their true form any longer. Faces ran like wax as they screamed, recoiling from the Sunspear in Leto's hand, revealing the soldiers for the Demon Seed they were.

  Hideous creatures, part reptile, part cat, and part humanoid, the Doppelgangers hissed as Leto stared in horror. Ramora lifted her sword, staggered by the sheer number of them. How had they gotten so many into Lansing? How had no one noticed them?

  Untar screamed too, falling back as the Sunspear formed, his features twisting as the foul spell he'd used was undone, revealing him for who he truly was. Shorter than the King, the Dark Blessed was a pitiful-looking man, thinning dark hair worn long, pockmarked face sneering as Leto brought his Divine weapon to the ready.

  Ramora felt as if the air was knocked from her as her gaze landed on the crest he wore. His black jacket, long and flowing, bore a single insignia on the shoulder. The one she hated more than anything. The sigil of the fallen dragon. The mark of Draco.

  "You are not Untar," Leto roared.

  The Dark Blessed held out his hand, the Netherspear forming, the reek of death and decay gagging the two Blessed. "No, but you have to admit, I did make a good imitation. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Renfro, of Derril. The conqueror of Lansing!"

  "Not yet you aren't," Leto replied. "Ramora, go to Rills’ aid. I'll handle him."

  Nodding, she called on her Avatar, scribing runes in the air as it sang them full of power. It didn't leave her much, enough for one more spell, really, but it couldn't be helped. Izra would've died, and still may, without the healing, and for now, the quickest way to reach Rills was to simply cross the distance in a single move.

  Imbued with lightness and strength, Ramora leaped into the air, her mystical abilities carrying her from the stairs to Rills’ side in a great bound. The Doppelgangers roared as she swept over them, coming down with a heavy crash, her sword cleaving three of beasts as she landed.

  "Hi, Ramora," Rills yipped. "Thanks!"

  Nodding, she pushed past him, going to the aid of his beleaguered squad as they tried to hold back a seemingly endless wave of Demon Seed. Grateful beyond words to have her there, Rills turned back to the fight, standing shoulder to shoulder with Toms and Wells.

  Her sword dancing, Ramora called upon her Divine Gift, phantom images floating before her eyes, showing her the movements of the monsters before they could make them. They fell before her in droves, her Heavensteel blade cutting through the armor, flesh and bone with ease.

  Falling behind her, Rakin and Vernit tried to cover her sides, but found the great sweeps of her massive sword needed no help. Nodding, they grabbed Fallows and spun around, relieving Toms and Wells for a moment, giving them a chance to catch their breath.

  Still, there were too many. Ramora grimaced as she saw more charging. No way could she hold them all back. She needed a new battle plan, and fast. They were caught in the middle of the wall, with no room to retreat, however, leaving her with no option but to fight on, and pray they could overcome.

  Across the wall, Leto's Sunspear clashed with Renfro's Netherspear, the Dark Blessed forced to fall back a step under the onslaught of the Blessed of Grannax. Doppelgangers moved to aid him, but he waved them back.

  "I've already taken five Blessed heads today, plus that of an Ascended," he declared with pride. "I
need no help dispatching this mere boy."

  "You've what?” Leto roared, coming at him with a massive sweep that nearly took the Dark Blessed's head. "An Ascended? How dare you? This blasphemy will not go unpunished!"

  "I dare whatever I wish," Renfro snarled. "I'm a servant of the rightful Gods! I'm the conqueror of Lansing! The Slayer of Ascended! The Bane of Heaven's Agents! I'm nigh on to a God myself! When Ker Zet walks this world once more, I will be elevated to her right hand!"

  "You're a fool!" Leto bellowed, charging the Dark Blessed, his Divine weapon jabbing, clashing with the Demonic blade, the energies howling at each other.

  Finding himself on the defensive, Renfro bobbed to the side. He avoided the next swing entirely and let Leto's Sunspear carve through the rock of the battlement, sending it tumbling away. Spinning, the servant of Hell brought his own weapon to bear, swinging it down for Leto's head.

  Pushing back, the Blessed of Grannax caught his attack and forced it down and inward, pinning the foul weapon to the battlement, where the two spears hissed and snarled. Tugging against the bigger man’s strength, Renfro found himself held fast, unable to avoid the fist Leto swung at him, sending the Dark Blessed staggering.

  Letting him fall away, Leto moved to close, only to have Renfro charge him, Netherspear humming, forcing him to deflect it as he hopped back. The smaller man was fast, more than he'd expected. Then he remembered what Izra had said, that he was a sorcerer, and able to enchant himself for speed.

  Scowling, Leto fell back with each attack of the Dark Blessed, luring him in, baiting him with false openings, looking for a chance to strike. Their mystical weapons clashed again and again, howling, snarling, showering them with energies both Divine and Demonic as Leto was pushed farther back along the wall, farther back from Ramora and his allies.

  Renfro was too fast, he found, to get a clear attack on, making the Blessed of Grannax fall back on his guerrilla tactics. As they thrust and parried, he stepped back, forcing the Dark Blessed to overreach, allowing him to push the Netherspear down, flicking his own weapon back up, drawing blood across the man’s cheek.

  "Bastard," Renfro snarled. "How dare you sully me with that heretic’s blade!"

  As he'd hoped, the Dark Blessed overreacted, his anger making him clumsy, sloppy, sending him forward without a thought. Spinning his Sunspear up between them, he captured Renfro's Netherspear, and grabbed a fistful of his jacket. He whirled the man into the battlements, drawing a grunt of pain from him. Leaning into his weapon, Leto forced both blades closer to the Dark Blessed's throat.

  "You can't win," Renfro growled, pushing back. "Surely you must see that."

  "All I see," Leto snapped. "Is how I'm going to send your head back to Draco in a box."

  To his surprise, his opponent laughed. "Draco? You think he’s the mastermind here? You fools, you don't even see what's really happening. Draco is but a pawn, to be used and discarded when his role is done. My true Mistress, Lillianna, will drench this world in the dark glory of the Gods of Hell! You can't stop her, either!"

  Leto grunted as Renfro finally pushed him back, his mind whirling. Draco wasn't the true enemy? A pawn? Desperate, he realized Ramora needed to hear this, as did the true Untar, should he still live. He had to tell them all. Lillianna. She was the threat.

  Renfro came at him with a fury, forcing him back until he found the battlements blocked him going any further. With their weapons crossing in a wild howl of energy, he hopped up, skipping away from the Dark Blessed along the top of the stone work, forcing Renfro to pursue as he searched for a better position.

  Jumping down just as the Netherspear severed stone, Leto dove into the cover of a parapet, glancing up at the ladder that led to the arbalest. If he could finish Renfro here, he could turn the weapon on the Demon Seed and aid his friends.

  Spinning back, he blocked Renfro's assault on his back, but was forced to scurry back as the Demon sorcerer enchanted himself with strength, his next blow sending the Blessed of Grannax sprawling across the wall, out of the parapet.

  Stalking him, Renfro grinned. "Look behind you, heretic, and behold the death of your hope."

  Pushing himself up, Leto glanced back and saw it with a gasp. He was out of time. Somehow, he had to slay Renfro now. Hefting the Sunspear, he faced his foe with determination.

  Far back along the wall, Ramora's arm ached from the heavy swings, the pile of bodies around her making the stone treacherous and slick with blood. She was panting from the exertion, and still, the Doppelgangers came at her, more climbing the walls to leap at her. At her back, Rills' squad fought with valor, but they too were weakening. Soon, she knew, they were going to be overwhelmed if she didn't figure something out.

  "Ramora!” Rills yelled. "We've got a new problem!"

  Like she didn't have enough already. She shut that thought down, focusing on the battle, and pushed back until she felt one of Rills’ soldiers at her back. Swinging the sword wide, she sent Demon Seed scattering, giving her half a second to breathe.

  "You probably need to see this," Rills bellowed. "I think it's kind of important!”

  Annoyed, she glanced back over her shoulder. Her eyes widened in shock at what she saw. Somehow, things really had gotten worse. A lot worse.

  Coming in over the ocean, headed straight for the city, was the ultimate in Demon Seed artillery. The most devastating weapon the armies of Hell had at their disposal. Massive, unassailable, armed with hundreds of cannons stolen from other worlds in the Shadow Realms.

  A flying citadel.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  FROM THE HIDDEN PASSAGE, Untar led Leena, Chara and Esteban into the throne hall, the great room empty and silent. The small group paused, scanning the chamber for any sign of enemies, but found nothing.

  "There, behind the throne," he said, pointing.

  The throne itself was a simple chair sitting in the back of the long, wide room. Behind it, though, was something much more impressive. As wide as the throne hall and a good ten feet high, a single slab of onyx upon which runic writing had been inscribed.

  "According to legend," Untar said. "The runes are capable of defending the city should we face an enemy greater than we can defeat."

  "Then we should use it," Esteban encouraged. "Quickly."

  Untar shrugged slightly. "If only I knew how. I don't even know what it says. The best and brightest my family has brought in have never been able to sort it out."

  Frustrated, Esteban growled. "Then why waste our time here?"

  Untar cut a discreet look towards Chara. "I'm hoping our helpful young friend might be brighter than those who've come before her. We don't have long, however, I suspect."

  "I will check," Leena offered, hurrying across the room to the massive doors that allowed entrance to the chamber.

  "Well, Chara?" the King asked. "See anything familiar?"

  "Actually, I do," she said slowly. "I've seen this before."

  Esteban cocked his ears back in surprise. "When?"

  "At your father’s keep," she said, grabbing the throne and pushing it aside so she could look at it better. "It's a little different, but basically the same as something he had in his armory."

  "Can you activate it?" Untar implored.

  Chara cringed a little. "I don't know. I never finished deciphering it, and what I'd gotten was just nonsense."

  "Damn," Untar sighed. "I'd hoped."

  "We should leave," Esteban suggested.

  "Sire," Leena called, voice low. "There are soldiers coming."

  "Back to the passage," the King ordered. "We can't afford to get caught."

  "Wait," Chara said as she dug in her satchel, pulling out the book she'd taken from Imicot's library and her notepad. "If this will help us, we have to sort it out. Give me some time."

  "Beloved," Esteban urged. "We haven't got time. It's useless. It likely means nothing, some ego-driven relic from the days sorcerers ruled the city."

  "Maybe," Chara nodded. "But there was a wea
pon with the tablet I saw at your father’s. If this is connected to the same thing, it may give us what we need."

  "It's pointless," he pleaded. "We must flee while we can."

  "I've got to try," she told him. "Ramora would try."

  "You aren't Ramora," he told her.

  She nodded slowly. "Believe me, I know."

  Seeing she wasn't going to move, Esteban sighed heavily, and looked to the King and his assassin. Glancing to one another, they nodded. They would hold off the enemy as long as they could. They would at least try to buy Chara the time she needed.

  Falling cross-legged onto the floor, Chara laid the book out in front of her, flipping through her notes until she found the right page and began again trying to decipher the runic text. Behind her, her companions took up defensive positions.

  A few moments later, the doors of the throne room eased open, a guard seeing them. "Here! I've found them!"

  "Guess this is where I find out if I'm still good with a sword," Untar muttered.

  "Try not to die," Leena replied, readying her weapons. "It would look bad on me."

  "Good to see you've got things in perspective," he groused.

  "Always do," she told him with a grin.

  Soldiers rushed them, a dozen to their three.

  As the sound of battle being joined rang from behind her, Chara tried to block it out, to shut down everything she was feeling, her fears and doubts, focusing on the great onyx tablet before her. If Ramora still lived, and she prayed the warrior did, this was the means to saving not just her, but all of Lansing. She had to get this right.

  Esteban's wide, powerful sweeps with the poleaxe ended three lives in a moment, leaving him free to dash to Untar's aide. On the King’s other side, Leena danced between their sword thrusts, her savage daggers ending their lives before they knew what'd happened. Untar alone struggled, his long absence from a sword making him uncertain.

  If only he could call on his Divine Gift, he could really fight them. He shoved down the ache in his soul at the absence of Riari, his friend since the day Grannax had touched him. She'd always been there for him, always had time to listen, and offer advice. She'd been more than his connection to Grannax, the conduit through which his Divine gift flowed. She'd been his most ardent friend, and he felt a piece of himself was missing.