9781618851307WitchsBrewShayNC (12 page)

“You worry overmuch about this human,” King Darak replied.
“She is nothing. No other human would believe her even if she somehow managed
to reach her world.”

“They
believed
in 1692,” Talon pointed out. “But
the opinion here is that you all think the answer to the problem is for me to
assassinate Saylym Winslow.” By the gods, they could glower at him all they
wanted, but he wasn’t going to back down over this issue. Not today. Not
tomorrow. Not ever. He wasn’t stepping dutifully aside so they could assign
another
waken
the duty of stealing Saylym’s soul either. Maybe he hadn’t
known her very long but his emotions were already involved. The realization
that his heightened feelings might be clouding his judgment hit him like a
punch to the gut. No matter how awful, the simple truth ate at him. He cared
for the
Impure
. He’d be damned to Nemaland before he allowed the guild
to harm Saylym in any way.

They were conviction happy, regularly pronouncing soul
removal upon witches. A biased, opinionated group of elders, whose laws and
decisions were absolute, final, and harsh. He’d be hard-pressed to persuade
them to change Saylym’s sentence, but somehow, he’d find the right words.

Ever since the Salem tragedy, the guild had nothing but
contempt for the females of their species. The witches were still being
punished because of things that happened centuries ago. Talon figured some of
the punishment stemmed from jealousy over the fact that their females chose to
take another species for their mates, giving birth to the race of
Impures.
They had no objections against them mating
with demons, but a human male was entirely a different matter. Humans weren’t
magical creatures and that race was afraid of the ones who did possess magic.

Well it was done and over with and it was past time the guild
crawled out of the dark ages and changed their laws. He blew out a long breath
and braced for more argument. “You must admit we don’t exactly have a noble
history where our witches are concerned.”

Once again the members of the guild gasped at his brash
outspokenness. Talon ignored their anger. They didn’t like to be reminded of
the truth. Too bad. “We’re just as responsible for the near extinction of our
females as the
illumrofs
. Assassination of witches must stop! I ask you,
who can blame them for taking demon or mortal mates? They don’t have to fear
either species will steal their soul at the peak of their mating.”

“This is an outrage,” King Darak bellowed. “Mating with
demons isn’t frowned upon.”

Talon frowned. “It should be.”

The king shook his head. “No. They’re an immortal race,
same as us. But humans? It is a disgusting practice that produces
Impures
,
which are even more revolting.
Impures
owe no allegiance to either
species. They aren’t to be trusted. Our females should never have mingled their
blood with humans!”

Talon swung his gaze toward his father. “It’s time…past
time…
wakens
let go of their grudges and their prejudices.” His jaw
tensed. He couldn’t count how many times he and the guild had argued over this same
issue. They couldn’t see what was happening under their very noses. Their
bloodline wasn’t being wiped out by mortals. It was being obliterated by the
demon race.

Even now, the members whispered nervously to each other,
obviously trying to decide if he’d lost his mind. Frustration gnawed at him.
Had they heard a word he said? Were they even listening to him?

He knew he was treading on dangerous ground in refusing to
terminate a witch who’d been sentenced for spirit removal. True, he was guilty
of frequent rebellion, but with this, the guild would now see him as a possible
threat to Ru-Noc. He was next in line for the crown if something happened to
Stry. With his radical beliefs, the elders would never allow him to take the
throne if it became necessary. They’d order his death first.

However, this was the first time he’d outright defied them
or refused to do their bidding. He’d never cared enough to risk challenging
their authority, until now. His impatience with the group and their blind
stubbornness increased with each minute he remained here. They were clever, to
be sure. They knew how to draw out their disapproval. By the gods, he’d stand
here and argue all day, if that’s what it took to win this dispute with them.

“You’re
certainly not very popular today,” Sage remarked, his lips curling with wry
humor.

“Yeah,” Talon replied, unconcerned. “They get a new lease
on life when I disagree with them.”

Sage flashed him a look filled with quiet laughter and
then winced as he swung a doubtful glance toward the Ancients. “Right about
now, cousin, I’d say their lease is running out, and their tempers are
sparking. Somehow, I can’t see them being happy about it.”

Talon darted his cousin a telling look. Along with Stry,
Sage was the
wakens’
golden boy. There wasn’t a female witch who didn’t
have a crush on Sage or Stry. Sage possessed shoulder length hair black as a
winter’s night, and his eyes were a blend of two shades of lavender…unusual,
even for a
waken
. They were consistently filled with a teasing light, at
least when one eye wasn’t covered with a patch.

“Maybe
I don’t care if they’re happy or not,” Talon replied. “It’s time someone forced
them to face reality.”

Sage
grinned. “Good luck with that.”

Talon switched his gaze to the royal throne. He’d never be
able to separate the man who was his father from the man who was his king. He
couldn’t. It hardly mattered. Not anymore. They disagreed about everything,
which was one of the reasons he was moving out of the palace. He needed the
freedom to be himself, to make decisions without needing to clear it with his
king first, his father second, and the guild third. If he remained at the
palace, kept his place as a member of the ruling monarch’s household, he’d
suffocate.

It was apparent from the vein pulsing on his father’s
temple that he was royally displeased. Talon rubbed his forehead where a dull
ache had settled between his eyes. Sage was right about one thing, he’d
definitely pissed them all off…again.

The group sat around a massive round table like rigid
soldiers, displeasure a prevalent wrinkle on their ancient faces. Each one of
them looked as if he’d bitten into something sour. It was just his luck, that
three of the elders who sat on the guild were related to him; his grandfather,
great-grandfather and Uncle Teek. As a rule, they followed the king’s lead.

Talon shifted, uncomfortable with the burning glare Uncle
Teek directed toward Sage. Poor Sage, he may be an only son—
only
child—but
he’d get his ears blistered from Teek once they got home. Tension coiled
through the air around all of them like a viper waiting to strike.

At last, the king cleared his throat. “We have no time to
waste on foolishness. You have your orders, Talon.” As a declaration, his
father’s words were cut and dried, leaving little room for negotiations.

Talon knew that was exactly the way Darak liked it.

Very well, two could play that game.

He’d make what he had to say just as brief, and after
that, he’d at least know where he stood with the guild.

If he died as a result of his declaration, he had no
choice but to take the risk. “I’ll spend eternity in Nemaland before I commit
the heinous act of stealing Saylym Winslow’s soul. That is my final word.” Talon
folded his arms across his chest and waited for the
sheeahta
to hit the fan.

Chapter Six

Over the next few weeks, other
townspeople came forward and testified that they, too, had been harmed by or
had seen strange apparitions of some of the community members. As the witch
hunt continued, accusations were rampant and made against many different
people.

~Salem Witch Trials

March 1, 1692

Page Entry…

Though the wakens remained
dissatisfied with the one time a year allowed to them to mate, Ru-Noc settled
into an uneasy routine of peace and quiet, except for the vicious quarrels
between Queen Leyla and her mate, Zoman.

The waken steadfastly refused
to take back his declaration that Kran was heir to the witches’ throne and
since Leyla had produced no other children, his word stood.

Fifty years passed with Zoman
grooming Kran to one day take the throne of Sanctuary. Another Beltane came and
went, but this time, Queen Leyla conceived a second child. The witches had
prayed to their fertility goddess nightly for the queen to conceive a girl
knowing if she didn’t, Leyla would murder her son before she ever allowed him
to sit on the throne of Sanctuary.

They knew their prayers were
answered the second week of Beltane from the displeased look on Zoman’s dark
face when he left the queen’s chambers, for one of the greatest powers granted
a male witch is the ability to know when his mate conceives and the sex of the
child at the moment of conception.

Leyla’s baby girl took the
name, Shy-Ryn.

~Pages of history from the
Winslow witches.

In the Year of Samhain, 1050

Ru-Noc

Droth

City of the wakens

King
Darak sat upon his gilded throne and glared at his son. As ruler of Ru-Noc, he
knew he dared not allow Talon to get by with his brash insubordination, his
reckless declarations or condemnation that nothing was done about the demons
mating with witches season after season.

His
son was one day going to be a
waken
to reckon with, but for now, he was young and impetuous and had no concept of
the army the two demon kings commanded. He knew Talon was right about everything
he spoke of, but losing face in front of the guild was unacceptable, for him,
and for his sons.

It
was imperative they showed a united front to their people. His reign would
crumble if he revealed signs of weakness, even with his family. When it came to
ruling, he had no family. The wellbeing of Ru-Noc always came first.

Neither was he ready to step down from his throne and turn
the kingdom over to his elder son and heir. In his infinite wisdom, he didn’t
believe Stry was capable of ruling the realm or facing the battles that lay
ahead.

Not yet.

His son would immediately want to make changes. Ru-Noc
wasn’t prepared for great changes. New rules, new laws, would only cause
disruption and make the kingdom more vulnerable.

Darak turned his gaze on his younger son. Damn Talon and
his impossible crusade for the witches. Didn’t the boy realize he was bucking
centuries of prejudice, and it’d take the passing of more centuries before the guild
bent those laws?

He’d love to be able to support Talon against the elders,
but he’d learned that sometimes the termination of a witch’s soul was
necessary. As long as he was king, nothing was going to change. He was
comfortable with their laws and the peace, and so was the guild. Given time,
maybe new laws would prevail, but even when he gave up his crown, he’d still
have a seat on the guild, so it wasn’t going to happen any time soon.

Talon made it more difficult every time he challenged his
authority and decisions. It simply proved to the guild the younger
wakens
were out of control, disrespectful, so the elders tightened their chokehold on
them.

It didn’t matter what the subject was, he and Talon never
agreed on anything. It was that simple. That complex. Somehow, he’d failed his
younger son. He didn’t know what it’d take to topple the wall between them. He
was no closer to an answer today than he’d been yesterday.

Darak saw the coolness settle in Talon’s green eyes. His
throat clenched. He swallowed past the ache. There was no choice in the matter.
If Ru-Noc was to survive, then nothing could change…for now. And this damn
witch, this
Impure
who’d upset
everything with her sudden appearance…well, there was no choice. The witch’s
magic was too unstable. He had to consider the harm she could inflict upon the kingdom
of Ru-Noc.

But Talon…Talon was his son. It was difficult. He knew he
walked a tightrope when it came to losing his son, and he was hanging by a
thread. The quarrel between them was somehow different this time. He felt it in
his heart.

Talon would never forgive him if he continued to demand
this witch’s life. Darak drew a deep breath and slowly exhaled, and deep inside
where no one could see, he grieved. The witch was an
Impure
. For his son
to be involved with her was unacceptable.

*
* * *

Recognizing
the stubborn look settling on Darak’s face, Talon knew his father would never
approve of his interest in Saylym. Darak would support the guild, no big
surprise there. Straightening his shoulders, he held up his palms, elevating
his voice above the livid outbursts of the elders. “I’ve met Saylym Winslow.
I’ve seen nothing to indicate a need to steal her spirit. She isn’t a threat to
us.”

Liar!
Vox shouted the silent message from his perch
on the wide oak beams that stretched from one end of the chamber to the other.
You
saw. She has no control of her magic. She practically roasted you alive.

Talon
frowned at the truth of the words ringing in his mind.

“There
is
a need,” Darak replied. “She’s a threat
to our very existence.”