by J. M. Taylor
“I need to check on my other guests. Malin’s friend is severely wounded, and I’m worried about what might ignite the powers Malin now possesses. I know you trust him, but I need to ensure our safety – not only yours and mine but that of my people.”
“I’m coming with you,” I say, standing up to dress, the pelt falling on the floor at my feet.
Ronan turns away, and I laugh.
“What are you doing? It isn’t as though you haven’t seen my body before.”
“Yes, I know,” he answers, his back still to me, “but I’m not sure if I can resist you, and I must. We can’t stay in this room for the rest of our lives.”
Ronan must have fed the fire more logs while I slept, for it is still blazing, and my clothes are warm and dry.
Outside one of the windows, a low moon shines through a haze of clouds in the dark sky. As I follow Ronan from the room, his ancient portrait glistens in its light.
The first staircase is wide, but others split and narrow with each new landing. Candles from the wrought iron sconces dotted along the walls flicker orange across the gray stone between massive tapestries.
Armed guards stand at attention throughout the castle, but down a long corridor with many closed doors, there is only one door with three guards standing outside of it.
When they see us approaching, one of them steps aside while another opens the door for us.
“All has been quiet, Your Grace,” one of them reports to Ronan. “We have had no trouble.”
“Good, I’m glad to hear it, but do not feel too at ease. Stay alert.” Ronan is the Duke of Crossbury again – confident and commanding, even his posture is different than when I first met him. He shifts easily from cheeky boy to self-assured man, and I find it inexplicably erotic.
Balik is asleep on the floor by the fire, but when we enter, he awakens and bounds toward me with his tail wagging.
“Members of my own clan did this to him,” Malin says to Ronan without looking away from Garrick, who is lying still on the bed, his breathing raspy and labored. “My father celebrated it when they brought him the news. ‘The humans will die or live only to serve us anyway,’ he had said.”
“Your father must be stopped. You know this to be true,” Ronan says. “He knows we protect the humans here, and if he declares war on them, he declares war with us.”
“The war is already upon us. Here lies your proof. My darling Garrick lies dying, and for what? My father’s desire to rule over humans? It sickens me.” Malin’s voice breaks with grief when he speaks.
“Let’s not forget his desire to rule over my coven,” I say, but with as much compassion as I can muster, because I am keenly aware that Garrick is much more than a friend to him. “Because of your father, Ravenwood has been lost to them. Those who remain are being held prisoners, and he will kill them if they don’t agree to bind themselves to him. Their spirits will be trapped in Mire for all time if he has his way.”
Ronan says to Malin, “I was looking for Ravenwood when I ran across riders from the Borthen Clan, so I followed them.”
“You looked for Ravenwood?” My heart fills with unexpected warmth.
“Of course, I did. I wasn’t going to leave you there if I could help it,” he says to me, then turns again to Malin, “I’m not certain that your friend and his father saw them coming. I don’t know why your clansmen weren’t using a cloaking spell anyway. It seems easy enough for them to have done so and would have prevented them from being seen by humans. Alas, they had chosen not to for some reason. Balik heard them first, and when he barked and darted into the woods after them, your friend’s father was foolish enough to go after him. He retreated quickly, but it was too late. They shot an arrow into his back and sliced your friend here with a Borthen blade. The wound is far more serious because of it. The potion your clan uses on their blades is poisonous, as you know. Your friend is suffering a slow, agonizing death.”
“My clansmen were not always like this. We were once content enough.”
“Your friend’s father was barely alive when I pulled the arrow from his back,” Ronan says. “I did my best to revive him –.”
“You did what?!” Malin is unexpectedly furious. “And without his consent?”
“No, I didn’t attempt to revive him in that way. I only mean to say that I tried to determine if he would live from the injury, but it was clear that he would not. He died where I left him. Your friend, on the other hand, was still alive. I brought him here to see what could be done, but I’m afraid there is nothing we can do to save his human life.”
“Was he offered the alternative?” Malin asks.
“Yes, and he refused it,” Ronan answers, “but that was before I believe he realized that his death is imminent.”
“I would like to think he would consider it now, but I haven’t been able to wake him, so I don’t know what should be done. I cannot make that choice for him,” Malin says tearfully.
Garrick surprises us when he utters, “No.” His voice so weak it is barely audible. “I die as I have lived, a man.”
Malin jumps to his feet, elated to hear Garrick speak, but despite his attempts to engage more, Garrick is incapable of communicating without choking on blood.
“It’s alright,” Malin says soothingly to him, wiping the blood from his face. “Don’t try to speak again. Just rest.”
Ronan and I step away to give them some privacy, and he says to me, “Wilhelm has no idea you left Ravenwood, I presume.”
“I’m sure he knows by now,” I say, “but I’ll return. I must go back for my mother. I told you; she’s wounded and still being held there.”
“It wasn’t your fault, you know – what happened to your mother.”
“Yes, it was. She was right. I wasn’t ready to wield my powers yet. I had no control over them, and now, she could be dying because of me.”
“We will save her. I will help you, and you will learn soon enough how to harness your power.”
“I have no power left to harness, remember?”
Malin overhears her and says, “I never wanted it. Any of it. I only wanted to be with Garrick, but my father would never allow it. Falling in love with a human is against one of our most sacred laws.” He turns to speak directly to me, “You know this more than anyone, don’t you? The false accusations made against your mother had you both hunted like animals for almost twenty years. Can you imagine what my father would do to Garrick and me if he ever finds out?”
Malin began to weep openly, kissing Garrick’s hand. “And now, what does it matter? We kept our secret, but they have taken him from me anyway.”
Garrick’s chest rises and his back arches as he struggles to take in a deep breath. He coughs and spews more blood, which Malin dabs with a damp cloth, ringing it out over a basin on the bedside table before wiping it carefully across Garrick’s lips.
Garrick opens his eyes and says hoarsely, “Malin, it’s you. You’ve come for me. Will we be together now?”
“Yes,” Malin assures him. “I will never leave you again.”
“Am I dying?” Garrick says, obviously delirious with pain.
Malin can’t bring himself to answer. He fights back his tears and kisses Garrick passionately before saying, “Please don’t leave me.”
“He doesn’t have to leave you,” Ronan says, moved by Malin’s love for Garrick.
Malin understands what Ronan is offering again. He leans over Garrick and says to him, “You don’t have to die. You can be a Child of Lilith. Is this something you would consider? I will not force you to do it.”
Garrick shakes his head and coughs blood again. “I am not meant for that life. If it is my time, I will accept it.”
“And I will honor your wish, my love,” Malin says to him, “though it rips at my heart.”
It is late now, and Malin looks weary. He has not slept since we arrived. Ronan insists that he leave Garrick alone long enough to get some sleep. The man in charge of tending to Garrick will se
e that we are all alerted if his condition worsens. Until then, Malin is to accompany his men to another room where he will be guarded by more men while he rests. He is not to leave the room without Ronan’s permission and a guard at his side. If he defies, this, Garrick will be killed.
“I still don’t trust him completely,” Ronan says to me as we make our way back downstairs. “I’m just glad you are here, where I know you are safe.”
“You know I can’t stay here. I’ve told you; I must find the coven and return to Ravenwood. Wilhelm must be destroyed, and since Malin has my powers, I will need him on my side. The question is, can I count on you to help as well?”
“You don’t have to ask me that. Of course, you will have my help. But Malin is not needed. He will remain here where he can be watched by my guards. We can’t trust that he would remain loyal to us in the presence of his father and his clan, and as you said, he isn’t able to properly wield your magic yet anyway.”
I’m angered by his insistence that he knows what is best and say, “He will learn soon enough, as soon as the first wave of anger courses through his veins. And what good am I to anyone, anyway? Without my magic, I am no better than a human, but I am willing to fight. We will need all the help we can get.”
Ronan stops and pulls me close, his dark hair falling loosely around his face, his green eyes intensely staring down at me. “The power of humans might surprise you, so be careful not to dismiss them entirely. And must I remind you that you are only part witch. Your magic has never been your only gift, and no vow – bound by a Yuram ribbon or not – can take away the part of you that is not magic. There is something else in you entirely. You are a Child of Lilith, like your father. You are as much a part of Silas as you are Clara of Ravenwood. There is a strength in you that has not yet been discovered. Tap into it, and you will find that you are still immensely powerful.”
He is right, and his words empower me.
“Send scouts to find the coven,” I say to him. “They need to know that I am here and that we will have a better chance of defeating the Borthen Clan and regaining Ravenwood if they join forces with your army. While we wait for them, teach me all that I need to know. Show me how to fight, how to use my strength, so that I am ready when we get to Ravenwood.”
Ronan’s mischievous grin returns. “Alright. I will send scouts to find the coven, and I will teach you to fight. Prepare yourself, because I don’t intend to go easy on you.”
He steals a kiss before walking away.
“Come along,” he calls back to me. “Your training begins now.”
I sleep a few hours during each day and train from early evening into night. I see little of Malin, who continues to watch over Garrick during the day but is isolated at night and always heavily guarded. Garrick grows closer to death, but Malin is unwilling to accept it.
On the fifth night since our arrival, Ronan insists that I am ready to hold my own in a fight, but I am determined to keep training despite an impending storm. The sky is black, no stars or moon can be seen through the thick clouds. But my strength astonishes even me, and I have learned to control the speed in which I move. Like other Children of Lilith, I am able to move so swiftly that I am virtually undetected until I am in a position to kill. I want to truly test my skills.
“Don’t hold back this time,” I say to Ronan as he readies his sword, the heavy steel shimmering in the torch lights that encircle us.
“I never hold back,” he retorts.
“Liar. I know you are not fighting me with the zeal in which you would fight an enemy. That is a disservice to me. When I am in battle at Ravenwood for my home and for my life, my opponent will not hesitate to use everything he has.”
“When you are in a battle, your opponent’s primary goal will be to kill you,” Ronan says, now practically shouting through the downpour that has begun to drench us both. “I do not share that same goal. And if you don’t mind, I’d rather not be the one to harm you.”
“Nonsense. You are afraid to test me. But I want to be tested. So, as I have requested, please do not hold back this time.”
“Fine.” Ronan circles me, studying my stance, preparing his move. But he looks aggravated. Perhaps he is growing tired of my persistence, or maybe he’s wary of sparring in the rain. Nevertheless, he does what I ask of him.
He lunges, and I easily avoid him. He moves with inhuman speed, and I block his sword with my own. I push him away, swing around, and nick his leg from behind with the tip of my sword. He wipes a finger across his wound and stares at the blood as it washes away with the rain.
“You want a fair fight. You will get one,” he says to me and taps my sword.
I raise it, prepared to meet his next strike, but he moves faster than I knew possible. I neither see nor hear him when the sword is knocked from my hands, and I am thrown to the muddy ground.
Fury burns within me, and a familiar heat blazes beneath my skin. Before I know what is happening, a flash of fire flings from my hand and ignites his sleeve just as thunder roars and lightning streaks across the sky.
He cries out and a guard races to help him put out the flame.
“What was that?” he says, rubbing his wound and investigating his singed sleeve.
I have no answer for him and find myself completely speechless. Something of my power exists in me after all.
“How is it possible?” he asks.
“I have no idea.” I summon a ball of fire in the palm of my hand from the heat that burns a labyrinth under my skin. I throw it against a stone barrier, and it blasts a small area of it into dust.
A voice I recognize says from behind me, “It appears that she can regenerate some of her power in much the same way we can regenerate our bodies. Fascinating.”
I turn to find Silas standing proudly in the doorway. His violet eyes are back and almost as bright as they once were, though they appear bloodshot, and the skin around them is still singed from the hot blade that had been used to remove them.
“I am glad to see you again, Silas,” I say calmly, even though I am almost overcome with happiness and relief at the sight of him.
“And I, you,” Silas says, walking over and taking my hand. “Maybe there will come a time when we can actually get to know each other as a father and daughter should.”
“I hope so,” I reply. “Until then, it seems we are destined to be at each other’s side against those who would destroy us.”
“We have each other for that, at least. Better than facing our enemies alone.”
Ronan looks as though he’s about to interject something witty into the conversation when an officer approaches with an urgent message.
“Your Grace, the guards in the North Tower have seen… something… emerging from the woods into the open field… but I saw nothing of what they report.”
“You are speaking in riddles, Captain Ranulf. Did the men see something or not? Could it be the Coven of Ravenwood?”
“They say that an army is approaching, Your Grace, but when I looked, I saw nothing there. Initially, I accused them of drunkenness, but they appear sober enough, and the fear in their eyes is real enough. Perhaps you should come and see for yourself.”
I speak up before Ronan has a chance to answer him, “I will go with you. This sounds like magic to me, but not of the coven.”
“I agree,” Ronan says to me, clearly concerned. Then he insists that Silas return to the castle since he is still too weak to be of any use.
Reluctantly, Silas agrees, and Ronan turns back to Captain Ranulf and says, “Alert the others. Ready the warriors.”
Captain Ranulf wastes no time, and I can hear him shouting orders even after we have parted ways on our way to the North Tower.
The rain is unrelenting, and the mud is heavy and deep. The stone steps inside the tower are slippery under our wet boots, but we make haste and reach the top in mere seconds.
More guards have gathered near the windows facing northeast. With every flash of lightning, they g
asp and chatter amongst themselves, amazed and frightened at what they are seeing. When they realize we have arrived, they stand aside and make way for us.
There is nothing but black sky and faint shadows of trees in the distance. The rain pounding on the roof overhead is deafening. Otherwise, there is nothing. Nothing at all. Not until thunder booms and the sky is split open with bright veins of lightening can we see them - an army of warlocks from the Borthen Clan, advancing on Fairen Castle under the shroud of a cloaking spell. As the light vanishes from the sky, they appear to vanish with it. Only when light flashes in the sky again are they once more visible for that brief moment.
“There must be hundreds of them,” Ronan says, evidence of fear in his voice. “Wilhelm has sent most of his army here. Why?” But then he looks at me and the answer is obvious to him. “Malin. He has come for you and Malin.”
“Yes, but I fear he has no intention of taking his son alive. He must have found out about his love for Garrick. This is an ultimate betrayal. His desire to rule over the kingdoms of men will be greater than ever now. Destroying you and your kind is an inevitable part of this plan. You would only stand in his way, and he knows it.”
“So, our first battle will be here, at Fairen Castle and not at Ravenwood.” Ronan sounds as though we have already been defeated when he asks, “How can we fight what we cannot see but for the fleeting moments they are visible under lightening?”
The sky lights up again, and warlocks clad in silver bear armor ride hard across the open field toward us. “They are struggling to remain hidden now. There are too many of them. And once they start fighting, they will not be able to use a cloaking spell. Any attempt at doing so will weaken them in battle.”
The odds are still not in our favor since there are so many of them, but Ronan is relieved. At least they will be forced to face us. He turns to his men and says, “Take your posts, nock your arrows, and ready your bows. Listen for your commanding officer to give the signal. Tonight, we fight.”
“I will tell Malin,” I say to him over my shoulder, already heading down the stairs.
