The Witch (16 page)

She hadn’t been the one to bring him out of the confines he’d been trapped in, she’d been destined to bring the knowledge of his waking
to
the rest of the worlds. To do that, didn’t she need to survive?

Some of the guilt in her heart lessened. She had always thought she would be the one responsible for so many lost lives at this monster’s hands.

But that was not what the Four Fates had had in store for her.

And for the first time in more lifetimes than she cared to think about, she felt…

Hope.

And that had her grabbing the hilt of the Sword of Estacles and lifting it with the surety that the original owner had tried to instill in her heart when she was Nelanora.

“For all the worlds, my blade will feel your blood soak within it.”

He smirked at her, a tall lean man with black hair and frozen green eyes. He was bigger than Dekimos, but she didn’t think he was larger than Jushua. But there was strength there, and there was power.

Evil.

She could feel it wafting off him.

“Think you a mere girl can defeat me? That was your downfall before, wasn’t it? I did not want your blood, would have been content to keep you as concubine. Even then. Still might be.”

“I’ll cut off your head—both of them—before you ever touch me. But do we just stand here, playing the talking game? Or should I just cut off your damned head and then go home in time to watch Lord of the Rings for the hundredth time?”

“You have matured. Your body is not so childish, but your blood…diluted with human and other pieces of refuse. Pity.” He stepped through the stone archway, closer to her than ever. “Had it not been for that…your ancient lineage would make you quite valuable. Evalanedea has changed in five thousand years.”

“Not much.”

“No. But enough that one of the original families’ heirs would fetch a goodly amount of gold. Either to breed you, or remove you as a threat to the throne.”

“What? Isn’t the throne your potty chair? Wasn’t that why you killed my family?”

“I killed them because they were in my way. It was as simple as that.”

“In the way of what?”

He was down the first step now. Loren forced herself to breathe calmly, to wait, to prepare.

To rush would mean certain death. Her hand was slick with sweat, making the grip of her sword all that much more difficult.

But she would not attack too soon. She would have only a few quick moments of surprise to make her attack work. And she would need every second of those moments.

But the idea of him getting nearer and nearer made her almost physically ill.

But weakness wouldn’t save her ass, or find Jushua and Deki.

It was them that had her faltering courage resurging. “You think you are so special? There are eighteen realms—“

“
Nineteen
. Why do people always miss that? There are nineteen and I can name them for you.” There was such madness on his face. And…had he bathed in the last century? It certainly didn’t look like it.

“Nineteen, then. Nineteen realms and there will always be a sociopath or one hundred just like you. Ready and willing to take what doesn’t belong to you and damn whomever else it hurts. What makes you so special? Your funky hair?”

“You were quick of tongue back then, too. Tell me, Nelanora, did that matter? You still died just as quickly.”

“I was a child then, and untrained. I have had eighty lifetimes to learn.” She pulled the sword up, to where they both could see it.

It glowed orange, something it had never done before. Before it had always been red.

The sword vibrated and she struggled to hold it in place.

It burned to attack, to rid the worlds of this evil.

She was not alone. She had the sword, and somewhere out there was Jushua, and maybe Deki.

Look at him, Nelanora, and see with other than your eyes. See him…for what he
truly
is…

And that gave her purpose. When next she looked at the Dark Sorcerer, she saw him for what he really was.

A ragged shell of a man who had a little bit of power—ok, a lot of power, she wasn’t stupid—and had abused it.

But power could always be shut off, couldn’t it? Even with a mad Laquazzeana?

That’s
what he truly was. And newsflash for him. She’d met a few Laqueazzeana before. He could die. She had no doubt about it.

If not, she could possibly shut that power off—at least for a little while. Long enough to finish what it is she is supposed to do.

She just needed to find his switch. “Come here, puppy. It’s time to get neutered.”

He smiled, an absurdly handsome male. Gorgeous, but completely dirty. She fought a shiver; she’d never seen a colder expression on anyone. “You…you will be quite a prize. Perhaps I will not kill you so quickly this time. Feel like being the pet of a god?”

“Please…I follow no god. My people were the gods of this land. Or have you forgotten that?”

“Of course I haven’t forgotten the myths that have abounded for all these millennia. I just chose to change them. Make me the center of their world. Rather than your father, or that of the Dardaptos line.”

“Please…can we hold off on the true megalomania? At least long enough for me to think here. I need to do something with you, but what kind of cage holds an idiot with a god complex?” Yeah, she seriously needed to figure out the answer to that question. Or find a way to get herself out of this safely.

Which wasn’t entirely probable.

But…Destiny had never misguided her so badly before. The dreams had very clearly pointed to her rising the Dark Sorcerer from the seas. Yet…here he was. And there wasn’t a bit of water around anywhere.

What was she missing?

Maybe this wasn’t her final destination, so to speak.

The sword hummed in her hand, reminding her she wasn’t alone.

And there was no use beating around the bush.

If she was going to live today, she’d rather get the nasty part of her day over.

If she was going to die—or just get hurt really, really bad—it was better to get a jump on the asshole before he could get the jump on her.

“Bring it on, bastard.” She struck, bringing the sword up between them.

He laughed, then attacked with a simple gesture of his hand. Loren crashed into the far wall.

Her own gifts, nowhere near as deep or strong, flared around her. How was she supposed to use Druidic gifts against a Laquazzeana sorcerer who has taken everything powerful and twisted it for his own purposes?

Water, earth, air—those were the elements she had even a rudimentary ability in. There was nothing in her gifts that had anything to do with dark fire commanded by a sorcerer.

She met his staff with her sword, and her arm went numb.

His power was in that stick, wasn’t it?

“Sword of Estacles? I searched for it, you know. Where has it been all these years?” Lust was filling his eyes and she knew instinctively it was for the sword and not for her. Why? And how could she use it to survive this? To get back to Jushua, and Jade, and Deki, her mother and his, and everyone else who mattered most to her?

“With someone dedicated to protecting it. Until it returned to its rightful owner.” Because Estacles had wanted her to have it. He’d presented his prize blade to her on her sixteenth birth year. Nelanora had been so incredibly humbled by the act.

He was one of the greatest warriors of the people. And he’d chosen her for his sword.

There had to be a reason she’d been chosen. Had to be a reason why she’d found the weapon again now.

She struck with the sword, bringing with it all the fury that had been pent up within her for the last eighty lifetimes.

His eyes flashed, going from green to yellow in an instant. “So you have far more skill now than you did. You know how to wield that sword much better. Yet how did you manage to hide it after your death before?”

“I do not know.” And she didn’t; she hadn’t even considered asking Dekimos how he’d ended up with the sword. Maybe she should have. “Why do you want it so badly?”

“There is Dardaptos blood within that blade. Blood that is mine, as well as the power.”

There definitely was
power
within the sword, wasn’t there?

And it made perfect sense that he would want it.

Power hungry assholes were never content unless they were grabbing more power for themselves.

But she had power, too, and the sword was meant to be
hers
. And she would use it, defend it. To defend the worlds.

He struck her across the face with his staff and Loren went down again. The sword clattered across the floor, reminding her that all the determination in the worlds wouldn’t mean squat if she didn’t back it up with some serious kick ass.

She pushed herself back up and reached for it. He was there first. He kicked her back. He hefted the sword. “Does not weigh nearly as much as I thought it would to hold what it does.”

“Power can be both light and heavy. Except in your case.” Loren made it back to her feet, but she didn’t know how.

He packed quite a punch, and it was very clear she didn’t stand a chance in direct battle.

She’d have to find some other way to bring the man down.

Or bring the castle above the Gardens of Ihth, once her father and mother’s, down around them.

That might be her only option. Not one she liked, but it might just work.

He was barely looking at her, so dismissive and arrogant.

But he stared at the sword in his hands like it was the most precious relic in the world.

He’d wanted that sword.

And she’d brought it straight to him.

Had that been what the Four Fates had had in store for her?

No. No, she would not be giving him exactly what he wanted. Even if that meant her death.

Jushua heard her screams and nothing he could do got him to her. Something had sealed the entrance to the hole. His gifts didn’t work, the power he’d always carried inside himself didn’t do a damned thing, and there was no other obvious entry.

He started digging with his bare hands. Even if he had to pull the Nellana Castle that directly above the Gardens of Ihth down with his fingers. He would do it.

No matter what had happened to her in there, he was not leaving her to die inside a cave. He was not losing her now.

Eighty lifetimes had passed for her. He would not sit back and let eighty-one come too soon.

Strong hands tried to pull him from where he dug. He fought.

“Jushua! This is not the way! Stand back!”

Dekimos was there. His brother, looking much filthier than the last time Jushua had seen him.

Deki had something in his hands, a staff unlike any Jushua had ever seen. He pointed it at the rubble and cursed.

The rubble shifted, moving enough that Jushua could slip through.

He did, knowing his brother was right behind him.

And then the walls came crashing down upon them.

She’d done it; pulled the walls down around them. He’d screamed, and the horrific sound had nearly burst her eardrums. She was shocked
she
hadn’t been crushed to death.

And she still held the sword, though it was burning far weaker than it ever had before.

Loren crawled as frantically as she could toward the far back of the castle basement. They’d never called it a dungeon, but that’s what it had been.

This was what she had dreamed, what she had known was going to happen. Her nails clawed at the rock floor, but she couldn’t get away.

Tears nearly blinded her. Her knees scraped against sharp rocks and broken bricks until the skin over them was bloodied and torn.

A male hand wrapped around her right ankle and pulled her back toward it with preternatural strength.

Loren screamed.

The hand flipped her, and there he was. The monster in her dreams. The one she’d feared for eighty lifetimes.

But she wouldn’t die passively. In any lifetime. She kicked out with her left foot. She hit nothing.

She grabbed a rock and rammed it into the thing’s face. Then another.

But he kept dragging her.

Until she was directly beneath him. She rammed her fingers into his eyes.

He screamed, but he never let her go. His hands, his claws, were on her neck now, and she could feel the blood on her skin.

He looked far worse than he had even a few moments ago. He was almost unrecognizable. The eyes, they were the same, but the madness was far more evident.

The filth was far, far worse.

And there was a light emanating from him, illuminating the pocket of rubble they were now in.