Witch Bane (14 page)

Fourteen

The Red Guard bayed at his heels as
Sebastian weaved between the trees, knowing he wouldn’t be able to
lose them no matter how fast he ran. There were simply too many,
and they covered too much ground. With the Red Witch at their
backs, driving them on, they would never stop, their fear of her
far greater than their fear of him. The only advantage he held was
that they couldn’t bring their numbers to bear on the move, the
woods forcing their ranks apart.

Unable to go into the treetops for the
griffins patrolling the air, Sebastian cast a quick glance over his
shoulder in hopes of gauging the thinnest part of the approaching
lines. He spotted it and made his choice. All eyes on him, he
wouldn’t be able to summon the shadows to mask his presence, its
use too obvious out in the open. He would have to do things the
difficult way.

He slowed and shifted right, ducking behind
a tree trunk only to spin about and dart back the direction he’d
just come. The soldier closest met his death first. With wide eyes
and an open throat, he stumbled as Sebastian used his body for
cover, shoving him backward toward his companions. A thrust to the
face sent the next soldier to his grave. After a severed hand and a
backhanded slash across the side of his head, the third went down
in a heap beside his dead companions.

Sebastian parried a blow and sent the
soldier who’d thrown it sprawling with a kick to the back, barely
getting his sword in place to protect against another incoming
strike. He drew the tip of his sword across the soldier’s eyes and
left him to his slow, miserable death as more of the Red Guard
closed about.

Sebastian moved behind a nearby tree to gain
some space, but the effort did little to help. These weren’t the
same soldiers he’d fought at the caravan, fresh recruits pressed
into service to oppress the rabble at the furthest edges of the
newly united Mynistiria. These were the true Red Guard, headed by
their master, the Red Witch herself. They were warriors
through-and-through, and he’d misjudged them.

Cursing, Sebastian knew he had to do
something different, something unexpected. He wouldn’t succeed at
picking them off a few at a time and carving a hole in their ranks
to rabbit through. He crossed swords with yet another soldier,
wasting precious seconds while he dispatched him. Sebastian’s eyes
darted about as a waft of brimstone filled the air. He leapt to his
left and saw a Red Guard captain appear. She swept her cloak aside
and hurled a ball of fire. It struck a nearby tree and exploded,
the green wood engulfed as though it had been dead for centuries. A
shower of ash and burning splinters rained over Sebastian as he
circled the base of another tree. Right then an idea hit him.

He held his breath, to keep from sucking in
the smoky air, and focused the whole of his will on his sword. His
shield flickered and fell as a deep green light engulfed his blade.
Holding the weapon in two hands, he swung it with all his might at
the base of the tree trunk. His shoulders screamed when he
connected, the impact reverberating through his joints as the
quicksilver sword cut clean through the three foot thickness. A
solid kick to the trunk afterword, the whole of his weight behind
it, sent the tree toppling. It fell with an eerie, drawn-out creak.
The canopy thrashed as if in a seizure while the tree tore through
its neighbors branches on its way to the ground.

Warning shouts cried out but were buried
beneath the roar of the falling tree. The Red Guard captain tried
to run, but in her panic to find the safest route, she darted
beneath one of the larger branches and bore the brunt of its
hurtling momentum. She went down to the snapping crack of her
bones, the sounds of her death drowned out by the crash of the
tree. A cloud of dust and debris filled the air.

The soldiers not caught by the tree
scattered, and Sebastian took advantage of the lull. He ran toward
the tree the captain had set alight and slashed at its branches as
he passed, flinging burning ash toward the stalled soldiers in
hopes of setting more of the forest on fire. Without a look back,
he barreled on through the woods, randomly darting right or left,
but always keeping in mind to move away from his father and the
girl. His flight would serve no purpose if he mistakenly led the
Guard to them.

As he ran, he caught the scent of brimstone
once more. He knew it brought. Sebastian dug in his heels and spun,
diving aside. Fire screamed past him, its heat drying his eyes and
misting the sweat that ran from his brow. He rolled across the
humus and got to his feet, looking to find his assailant. His heart
sunk when he saw her; it was the Red Witch herself.

She walked toward him through the blackened
swirls cast off by the burning trees. Her blond hair streamed out
behind her like a halo reflected in the golden firelight, the blue
of her gaze locked on him. Her crimson robes matched the shimmer,
which fluttered about her fingertips, her magic at the ready. She
strode forward with bold steps.

Sebastian’s stomach turned to knots at
seeing her. Here before him stood one of the women who had killed
his mother, murdering her but moments after his birth. His destiny
had caught him unprepared, delivering her into his hands, and he
was uncertain. He’d been trained to face the witches, his father
teaching him the subtleties of avoiding their attacks, but he’d
never had the true opportunity to test his skills. The knot in his
stomach tightening, he held his ground.

“
Elizabeth is a fool if she thinks she
can raise an army of abominations against us,” the witch said, her
smile sharp. “You will die at our hands, just as every enemy of the
Council has done.”

Sebastian felt the heat of his anger
overtake the burning woods at her comment. She had no idea who he
was; who his mother had been. The witch presumed he worked with
Elizabeth. His knuckles ached against the hilt of his sword. Fury
was a voice in his head:
kill
her
! He was all too ready to comply. His chance was
now and would likely never come again. He hoped his mother
watched.

The Red Witch grinned, bringing her hands up
as Sebastian set his stance. “Time to die, warlock.” A roaring wash
of fire sprung to life at her palms and rushed toward Sebastian. It
devoured the trees and shrubs as it closed on him. The air was
black in its wake, its bitter stench in his mouth. Death was
coming.

Nowhere to run, his fury cooled in an
instant, Sebastian dropped to the ground and tucked his head,
willing the whole of his power into his shield. The tsunami of
flames crashed over him, the heat lashing at his flesh, raising it
in reddened welts.

In a heartbeat, he was engulfed.

Fifteen

Her head filled with clouds, Emerald reached
for the reins to slow the galloping horse that jarred her without
mercy. Her hands settled against warm and wet, stubbled flesh, her
fingers sensing a strange familiarity her mind couldn’t quite
comprehend. She cracked her eyelids and saw a blur of lines
swimming before her, the images incoherent. Emerald blinked to
clear them and at last noticed the face of older man uncomfortably
close to her own, yet no sign of a horse. She could smell the
sourness of his breath as he huffed, the air rushing in and out of
his open mouth like a bellows. His gaze darted to hers, and despite
the effort on his reddened face, his chapped lips broke into a tiny
smile.

“
Don’t worry, young lady, I won’t hurt
you.”

Emerald barely caught his words, his voice
so ragged as to be nearly indistinguishable from his exhalations.
She stared at him a moment and recalled having seen the man before,
but couldn’t place his face. It took another few seconds to realize
she was being carried. She felt her heart sputter.

“
I—” she started loudly.

“
Shhh,” he whispered again. “Lower
your voice, girl. They’ll hear us.”

“
Who?”

The man came to stop and set her on her
feet. She felt a sudden dizziness and nearly tumbled, but rough
hands caught her and held her up. Spots of white flickered before
her eyes, blotting out pieces of the man’s face as though it were
an incomplete puzzle. She felt weak.

“
Be quiet, please. The Red Guard is at
our backs.”

She clutched to his arms, glimmers of
memories coming to her in ragged glimpses. “Donlen?”

“
I’m sorry, but he’s dead,
girl.”

The image of the warrior’s face popped into
her mind, the red mess of his collapsed skull splayed across the
humus. Her stomach roiled and she leaned away as sour bile gushed
from her mouth. It burned her lips, splashing wet at her feet. She
fell to her knees beside the glistening pool, coughing up the
lingering phlegm that hung in her throat.

Voices broke through her haze, the words
harsh and seemingly distant. The man shook her shoulders with
gentle insistence.

“
We need to go, child.
Now!”

The sharpness of his voice brought her to.
She looked up at him and despite the leathered harshness of his
lined face there was concern in his eyes. She drew a breath,
wrinkling her nose at the smell of her vomit, and let the man help
her to her feet. Her mind, though still sluggish, began to clear.
The shock of seeing Donlen dead, crushed beneath the hooves of his
horse had struck her harder than she could have imagined. Her whole
life spent behind the walls of Corilea, she had never seen the
brutality of battle so close. Though she understood what her mother
was capable of, knew what lay in store for her child were she to be
caught, it had never been clearer before Donlen’s death. Without
her guide, she was alone in her journey. She would never find the
resistance.

Emerald looked to the man who’d saved her.
For all his apparent kindness, he was a stranger. She knew nothing
of him or why he risked his life to keep her from the Red Guard.
All she knew was that he had. She took a step back, pushing his
hands away so she could stand on her own.

He glared at her, but didn’t try to touch
her again. “Come on, girl. I promise I won’t hurt you, but I make
no such promises about them.” He motioned toward the woods where a
number of red flashes were visible through the thick foliage.

Emerald stared at the Red Guard and knew
what she must do. She reached inside her boot and tugged loose the
dagger Victor had given her, a chill running up her arm at the
contact. She pulled it free of its sheath and heard the man hiss
his disproval as she turned to face the approaching soldiers.

“
Where did you get that?” he asked,
then shook his head. “Never mind, we have to go. We can’t fight
them, girl, there are too many.” He took a step closer, his hand
out to her.

“
We don’t have to fight them,” she
said, her voice sounding strange to her ears. “He will come for
me.”

The man drew closer, stepping about so she
could see his face. “Please, we don’t have time for this. If you
insist on staying, I must leave you. Do you understand?”

She nodded. “I understand.”

He sighed, standing still a moment
before moving in front of her. He unslung the crossbow that hung at
his back and settled, facing the approaching enemy. The Red Guard
soldiers burst from the trees. The first fell as he appeared, a
crossbow bolt protruding from the socket of his eye. Emerald looked
away as the gush of blood sprung up like a geyser. She felt her
stomach churn again and saw the discarded crossbow land beside her,
and heard the sound of steel being drawn. She clutched to the
dagger and whispered Victor’s name as the clash of swords rang in
her ears, the man having raced to meet the soldiers ahead of where
she stood. Emerald closed her eyes and called out inside her
mind:
for our child!

A sudden gust of wind whipped her hair
across her face, the strands stinging her cheeks. She ducked her
head and heard the crunch of bone, the sound of a body hitting the
ground. The screams of men surrounded her, and she curled up
tighter to block them out. She could smell blood in the air, the
sounds of a butcher’s block all around. She screamed but couldn’t
hear her voice, her throat torn ragged as she clasped desperately
to the dagger and covered her head with her arms.

After a moment, the world went silent save
for the ringing that hovered in her ears and the echoes of her own
cries. There was a crunch of a boot before her and she tensed,
awaiting the blow that was sure to follow.

There was only a roughened voice. One she
knew well.

“
Stand, Emerald, so that I might see
you are unhurt.”

Emerald’s eyes popped wide, and she
staggered to her feet, her vision filled with Victor’s visage. She
dropped the dagger and flew into his arms, crushing her chest
against his, her face buried in his beard. He clutched her with one
massive arm, whispering soothing sounds into her hair. She stayed
against him for several moments until he pulled away. She
reluctantly let him, knowing they would never part if he’d left the
choice to her.

She opened her eyes and was glad Victor’s
bulk blocked her view of what lay beyond. The axe in his hand was
stained in the wet red of the soldiers’ lives, pools of it gathered
at his feet. It dripped from the blades. She spun about to see the
older man still there, his sword in his hand, the blade hanging
toward the ground. He stared past her, to Victor.

“
Don’t look so surprised, General
Darius,” Victor said. “We all have our secrets, do we
not?”

Emerald looked from Victor to the man he
called general. “You know each other?”