Sorceress Hunting (A Gargoyle and Sorceress Tale Book 3)

by Lisa Blackwood

  With another shuddering shake of her branches, the hamadryad began to lower them to the ground.

  “Gregory,” Lillian’s voice drew him from his own pain and he heard her deep worry. “Tell me you’ll be okay.”

  “I will be.” Gregory pressed his forehead against the trunk’s shaggy bark and then studied the fine white lacing of scars which now crisscrossed his skin. Lillian helped brace him while he gathered the strength to stand on his own two feet. “We will be.”

  But only if Lillian was wrong, and the Sorceress hadn’t just tried to kill him.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Commander Gryton stood at the maze’s north exit, his magic held carefully in check. He was nearer to his enemies than was safe, but he’d felt the hamadryad calling the Avatars to her and he had been coming to investigate when his slave collars blazed a warning, telling him someone was attempting to tamper with them.

  For once fate had been kind and he’d arrived in time to avert a disaster. The hamadryad Sorceress had been examining his slave collars, and by the intricate currents of magic he felt shifting through the earth and air, she had been far too close to unravelling his spells.

  And that was not part of Gryton’s plans. It should have come as no surprise though. Containing something as powerful and elemental as the male half of the Avatars wasn’t a static task, but an ongoing, ever-evolving one.

  Even without the hamadryad’s help, the Gargoyle Protector could override Gryton’s spells given enough time. That was the nature of magic from the Spirit Realm. It cleansed that which did not belong, and nothing could withstand its power. Nor could anything, not even Gryton’s greatest spell-work, prevent the Gargoyle Protector from calling to that great power and having it answer.

  So the Protector’s near escape shouldn’t have come as a surprise.

  But it did. The hamadryad’s interference in this was most unwelcome. Worse, somewhere deep inside, in a tiny flawed part of Gryton’s being, he felt betrayed by the hamadryad as if she had welcomed him and offered a mother’s protection and then took it all away. It was foolish. He’d known within moments of his birth he could trust no one, not if he wanted to survive.

  This little incident just solidified his wavering resolve. He would root out and crush that tiny seed of weakness. It wouldn’t happen again. He would deal with his personal weakness just as brutally and swiftly as he’d corrected the flaw in his slave collars. Just a minor change to each collar was enough to prevent the gargoyle from harnessing and controlling his Spirit Magic.

  And should a power that vast just happen to lack any kind of outlet? Why, there could only be one fatal outcome.

  Gryton’s lips stretched into the slightest of smiles. The Lady of Battles might not be happy with him should the Protector be killed by his own power, but somehow, Gryton didn’t concern himself with that. The Battle Goddess would just have to start over once the Gargoyle Protector was reborn.

  Gryton’s collar should now, if not completely neutralize the Gargoyle Protector, at least make him somewhat less lethal—though he didn’t know if his fixes would keep the hamadryad from meddling. Likely not.

  After all, the Avatars were still powerful enemies, ones he wasn’t yet ready to attack openly. He needed to separate Lillian and Gregory from the hamadryad Sorceress without getting himself captured or killed.

  The hamadryad had allowed him his freedom for now, but if he threatened her dryad or her beloved Gargoyle Protector farther, there was no guarantee she would remain peaceful.

  Gryton eased away from the threshold, heading deeper into the maze as he debated his options.

  A direct attack was out of the question. Yet, a more subtle trap might be discovered by the Gargoyle Protector, or be neutralized by the hamadryad long before Gryton could use it to capture the Avatars.

  He cautiously exited the maze and was heading for better cover in the forest when his magic stirred with interest. Never one to ignore its guidance, he followed where its tug led and found himself gazing toward the stone cottage where the Avatars sheltered. A small drama was playing out in a window on the topmost level of the abode. A human female was hanging half out of the window when River’s son slapped a hand over the human’s mouth and dragged her back inside.

  The human was of little interest to him, but seeing the gargoyle child opened up other possibilities.

  There just might be another way to return the Avatars to the Lady of Battles. Fate was being abnormally kind to him of late.

  While the Avatars might be too much for him to take unaware, the gargoyle child would be easy enough to capture and returned to the Lady of Battles’ domain. Once the child was within the Lady’s grasp, Gryton would bet his life Darkness and River would come to his rescue. More importantly, Lillian wouldn’t sit idly by if her little brother was in trouble. Presently the Sorceress or not, where Lillian went, Gregory would follow.

  All the Battle Goddess’ plans might still come to pass. Gryton might just live through this whole debacle. It just hinged on capturing one young gargoyle. Easy prey.

  Gryton just needed time to lay the ground work for a trap. A day or two should suffice even in this magic-starved realm.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Anna counted the nicks on the bathroom doorframe. Taking out the knife she’d filched from Shadowlight’s bag, or rather the bag he had filched from his father, she made a third notch below the first two lines.

  Three days.

  Seventy-two hours.

  Four thousand, three hundred and twenty minutes.

  Dawn would be hello to day four.

  And here she was still trapped in this godforsaken room for three whole days.

  Oh, she didn’t fool herself. Her life could be so much worse. Shadowlight brought her food and clean clothing. The kid was entertaining, she’d grant him that, but she was still a prisoner. After Shadowlight had caught her trying to escape a second time, he’d had Greenborrow strengthen his spells since she was able to circumvent any spell of Shadowlight’s making.

  In the last two days, she’d discovered there was more than just physical changes. She now could ‘see’ the energy Shadowlight called magic and she could even unravel the weavings. The unforeseen side effects were more instinct than memory, but she’d still been quick to take advantage of it.

  Regrettably, she hadn’t been able to bypass the leshii’s shielding spells. She’d tried. Repeatedly.

  Referring to the barrier as magic spells and wards, while still mildly weird, was starting to seem familiar. Which was more disturbing than the changes in her body.

  Some of the alterations were beneficial, like her ability to see in the dark, and her heightened sense of smell and hearing. She’d bet she had greater stamina and strength, too.

  Not that this tiny room allowed her the chance to test her theory.

  She was going stir crazy. The inability to do anything might just kill her. Wouldn’t that save everyone a headache? Too bad she was too stubborn to roll over and die—even if no one had ever, actually, died of boredom.

  Even pacing was out of the question in case the room wasn’t as sound proof as Greenborrow claimed. The last thing she needed was for more Fae to learn of her existence. With only the two, she still had hope of escape.

  Sighing, she sat down on the bed and rummaged around in the nightstand for the books Shadowlight had stolen for her. He’d had an agenda she’d soon found out. The kid loved to be read to, which shouldn’t have been such a surprise. All kids liked to be read to, didn’t they?

  Unfortunately of the five books he’d brought—one spy novel, one detective, and two rather steamy romances, only the Jane Austen was anywhere near kid-safe reading. So every night, she’d read Pride and Prejudice to the young gargoyle for a couple hours before she chased him off to bed.

  Rolling onto her stomach, she spread the remaining books out on her pillow to sort through them. She’d already finished the detective novel the first day, so she picked up one of the romances
. At least it was a historical. Maybe she’d learn a little history among other things.

  With a chuckle, she flipped to chapter one.

  *****

  Hearing soft footsteps outside her door, she folded the corner of the page down. It wasn’t like she had a bookmark. Besides, this one was so dog-eared, one more fold wouldn’t be noticeable.

  Shadowlight tapped softly. She knew it was the gargoyle because Greenborrow didn’t knock, and if she’d been detected, it wasn’t like anyone else would knock before storming the room. So she always knew that soft, three part rap was the young gargoyle.

  At least someone had taught the kid manners. It certainly wasn’t the leshii.

  “Come,” she called. Though she wasn’t sure if he could actually hear through the barrier which doubled as both sound proofing for the room and cage for her.

  Shadowlight stuck his head in at her soft call. Guess that was a yes.

  He spotted her and then came in carrying supper. The scent proceeded him.

  “Oh, my god,” she muttered as she jumped off the bed and snatched the tray from his hand. It was warm. In the past, he’d only been able to snatch cold leftovers. Apparently, gargoyles didn’t do microwaves. “That smells delicious.”

  She set the tray down on the bed, looked around, grabbed the only chair and dragged it closer to the bed. Shadowlight placed his own dinner down next to hers and then jumped up on the bed as he always did. There was no way he could fit in the chair anyway, so she felt zero guilt about having the only seat with a backrest.

  She took the lid off the covered tray—who actually had covered trays in their kitchen?

  “The trays are from the spa,” Shadowlight admitted. “Gran intended me to take the food to Lillian and Gregory, but they went off hunting in the forest.”

  “Mmm…no use wasting good food. Keep up the good work.” She grinned around a forkful of the divine-tasting stir-fry and watched as Shadowlight tried to navigate the rice to his mouth without wearing it. She was just opening her mouth to tell him to forget manners and just dig in when the door shoved open with a crash.

  Anna shot out of her chair. She snatched up the knife she kept in the nightstand. Shadowlight was faster and lunged off the bed, his talons extended and his lips curled back in a snarl.

  The young gargoyle didn’t reach his target. A fiery wall of power leaped up between him and the newcomer.

  Before that fiery power had completely obscured the newcomer, her heightened senses tagged what had invaded her room as deadly. Her new talons lengthened, every instinct screaming this was a lethal opponent.

  How exactly she knew that, she had no clue. She’d only had a glimpse of crimson and black armor and sharp edges.

  She circled to the side, her small, stolen knife in one hand, the chair gripped in the other, ready to whip it at the newcomer if she saw an opening.

  Shadowlight’s magic slammed into the fiery barrier. Steam hissed and curled up from the point of impact. She didn’t know much about magic, but she did know Shadowlight’s power was cool, a chilled mist across her senses. This newcomer’s magic must be as hot as it looked.

  She wasn’t about to let the bastard land a blow just to confirm her theory, though.

  Speaking of landing a blow—that looked to be next to impossible. He was covered head-to-toe-in medieval-styled armor like he was a knight ready for tourney. It didn’t stop Shadowlight from trying his damnedest to eradicate the newcomer. Anna inched closer, waiting for an opening.

  Tin Man reached out and grabbed Shadowlight’s right wing, jerking it hard enough to send the young gargoyle stumbling into the wall. Seeing her chance, she swung the wooden chair with all the force in her arms. It flew true to its target, splintering on contact.

  The newcomer didn’t go down as she’d hoped, but her move gave Shadowlight a chance to free himself.

  The gargoyle dropped to all fours, attacking from a new angle. Anna knew they were in trouble when Tin Man deflected blow after blow without even looking at the gargoyle.

  Tin Man’s attention was riveted on her instead. She didn’t know what he found so interesting.

  “Scrutinize this.”

  She lobbed the small knife straight at his visor’s eye slits.

  He caught her knife by the hilt before it could embed itself in his eye.

  Shit. The fucker had reflexes.

  “Well,” Tin Man said. “The boy is already showing his potential. I had not expected him to start building our new gargoyle army until he was mature. The little prodigal has been busy.”

  Tin Man heaved Shadowlight off him and then slapped out with some kind of physical wall of magic that sent the gargoyle flying backward.

  Shadowlight’s lower legs hit the end of the bed, and he slid, half rolling all the way to the headboard. He slammed into it with enough force to move the bed several feet across the floor.

  “Mortal,” Tin Man drawled, “I need a moment for a few words with you.”

  A force hit her square in the chest and she was flying backward. She slammed into Shadowlight’s still form. She wasn’t certain if he was still conscious.

  Instinct told her he was still alive.

  Shadowlight moaned a moment later, assuring her he was, indeed, still alive, and mostly conscious. He rolled to his side, planning she knew not what, but his motion was aborted when he came in contact with some kind of barrier suspended just inches above them. The heat rolling off it warned her not to make contact. Then she realized it was descending toward her, and she might not have a choice.

  “Now, little human—there is no need to fear. I’m not going to cook you for dinner. However, I do need to examine you, so you’ll be coming with us.”

  So he didn’t want to kill Shadowlight, or at least not immediately. What he did want was a mystery, one she was happy not to know.

  Tin Man glided to the bed and muttered a few words over the struggling gargoyle. Shadowlight went limp between one second and the next and the fiery barrier vanished.

  From somewhere on his person, or maybe he pulled it out of the air, a length of delicate silver chain appeared in Tin Man’s hand, followed by a far-from-delicate collar.

  With another mumbled word, the collar flared with magic and Tin Man reached down and slipped it around Shadowlight’s neck. The chain fused itself to the collar in some fashion she couldn’t see.

  Screw that. Shadowlight wasn’t a dog.

  In a move more bravado than brains, she twisted on the bed and kicked out with her right leg. The toe of her sturdy boot caught him in the side of the head. His helmet took much of the impact, but he still rocked sideways and dropped the chain he’d been holding. While he was off balance, she lunged at him, tackling him in his armored chest.

  The impact felt like she’d been in a collision with a tank.

  Tin Man only staggered under the impact a half step. Nonetheless, she accomplished what she set out to do. The hilt of one of his large daggers now rested in her hand.

  It would have been nice to have been able to snatch the other one. Alas, she was lucky to have gotten this one.

  “Hey, Tin Man, your blade’s got really nice balance. Mind if I test it to see if it’s half as sharp as it looks?”

  His lips thinned, clearly not loving that anyone would challenge him.

  A roar echoed through the room, catching them both off guard. Ah, naptime was over.

  Shadowlight, a blur of sharp talons and white fangs, launched from the bed a second time, slamming their enemy clear off his feet. Tin Man and the pursuing gargoyle tumbled out of the room and halfway across the attic. Stacks of boxes and the odd piece of furniture toppling over or crashing to the floor made enough noise to alert everyone within the house that something was amiss.

  Anna darted after them, looking for a place to strike. Shadowlight had Tin Man in a choke hold, dragging him backward toward the stairs. At that angle, she doubted Shadowlight could see the glowing ball of fire in Tin Man’s other hand.

 
“Fireball. Right hand,” she barked the order and lunged at the duo, her knife at the ready. She’d see if he could still do the handy fireball thing without that hand.

  Tin Man kicked out with both legs, his booted feet catching her squarely in the chest. Again, she found herself flying backward. This time a wall was kind enough to stop her.

  She grunted and wheezed and cursed as she crumpled to the ground. The bastard was half horse to judge by that kick. She lay a moment more, her body unresponsive to her brain’s demands to get up. White and grey snow blurred her vision.

  Turning her head to search for signs of Shadowlight and their enemy, all she spotted was a broken off two by four and a few pieces of shattered balusters, which had once been part of the stairwell’s guard railing.

  Grunting, she heaved herself to her feet and ran after the two combatants.

  They were at the bottom of the stairs, the narrow hallway hindering both of them, but Tin Man had managed to get the upper hand on the young gargoyle. He had the length of chain in one hand, trying to attach it to his own wrist, where a small circle of metal glowed evilly.

  Her stolen knife gripped firmly in her hand, she descended the stairs three at a time. She didn’t know what the leash and collar were capable of, but Shadowlight’s desperation as he fought to free himself told her enough. She landed in a crouch at the bottom of the stairs.

  Tin Man cursed and lobbed a fireball at her. She dropped to one knee and lurched sideways, her newly sharpened reflexes saving her from a nasty burn or worse.

  Shadowlight roared, the sound echoing down the hall and farther out into the house.

  Someone was bound to hear and come to investigate. It just might not be soon enough.

  Tin Man had Shadowlight on his back and had looped the chain around the young gargoyle’s throat. With a mighty heave, he dragged the gargoyle backward, while sending fire back in her direction.

  She dodged. Mostly. The smell of burnt hair and a new throb covering most of her left shoulder and neck said she hadn’t dodged the last one fast enough.