Warrior Witch: Malediction Trilogy Book Three (9 page)

“
D
amn you
, Chris,” I whispered. “What are you thinking?”

Roland rose to his feet. “I. Will. Be. King!” The ground shuddered, and he slashed his hand sideways, the air shimmering with a lethal blade of magic.

“No,” I gasped, but Chris was already moving, his black horse galloping flat out toward the nearby woods. Clenching my fists, I watched, waiting for the magic to catch up, to slice through both horse and rider. But it fell short.

A string of oaths poured from Roland’s lips, but before he could go after him, Lessa closed her hands over his shoulders. “It’s a trap.” Her eyes panned the surroundings. “Cécile is here, which means Tristan likely is too. They’re trying to draw you out.”

“Tristan?” The anger fell away from Roland’s face, and he rose up on his tiptoes as though the extra few inches would give him the vantage he needed.

“Don’t be a fool,” she snarled. “He just tried to have you killed, can’t you see that?”

Roland’s face fell, but his half-sister ignored him. “Go after the rider,” she ordered the other two trolls. “Bring him back alive – he might have information about their plans.”

Both inclined their head, then they were running. I bit my lip as I watched them disappear down the road. I’d known trolls were fast – had seen the way they moved. But Trollus had kept them contained in more ways than one, so I’d never seen one in an all-out sprint. Chris’s horse wouldn’t outpace them for long.

A hand closed around my arm, and I would’ve yelped, but another covered my mouth. “Shh,” Marc murmured in my ear. “We need to move while they’re distracted.”

Surrounded by illusion, Marc led me through the still forms scattered across the square, not speaking until we were tucked behind another building where the twins were waiting.

“They know I’m here,” I said.

“Oh, was that why Roland was shouting your name?” Vincent crossed his arms. “You weren’t supposed to let them see you.”

Plucking a piece of debris from my ebony locks, I frowned at him. “I didn’t. Lessa’s seen me work that spell before – she put two and two together.” I swiftly explained what happened. “I don’t know what we should do now. We aren’t going to get a second chance.”

“Which is why we’re going after Lessa’s lackeys,” Marc replied. “It may be that they know where Angoulême is hiding, and ultimately, it’s the Duke who Tristan wants us to catch. If your friend Chris survives his little stunt, I’ll have to thank him.”

“For what?” I snapped. “Ruining our plan?”

“Did he? Or did you with that stunt with the guard?” Marc didn’t wait to see his jab land, his cloaked form going to the corner of the building. “They’re starting to search the town. We need to be gone.”

I didn’t argue. If I hadn’t taken that extra step – a step that had been both unnecessary and cruel – Roland would’ve bitten into the candy, spilled the blood, and I would have performed the spell just in time for Chris’s arrow to find its way into his skull. All those corpses in the town square? Their deaths were as much my fault as his. More. I felt sick with guilt and grief. They’d been innocent.

And I knew they wouldn’t be the last.

S
lipping
out of the village was no trouble. For one, people, oath-sworn or not, were fleeing in all directions. Two, while Lessa had set her human soldiers to patrolling the town in search of a girl of my description, they were woefully unprepared for dealing with my friends. As was Lessa herself.

“How anyone can believe she’s Anaïs is beyond me,” Victoria muttered for the tenth time. “She doesn’t know a thing about setting up a perimeter or organizing troops or…” The list went on, but I stopped listening, because it didn’t matter if Lessa had a talent for any of these things. All she needed to do was keep Roland in check and corral as many humans into swearing fealty to him as she possibly could, and so far she seemed to be succeeding.

With Vincent carrying me for the sake of speed, we’d reached the tree line some time ago, following the tracks Chris’s horse had left in the snow, as well as the boot prints of the trolls in pursuit.

“Be quiet, Victoria,” Marc said from his position in the lead. “If they were going to catch him, they’d have done it by now and will be coming back this way. I’d rather not give them advance warning of our presence.” Then he stopped.

“Put me down,” I said to Vincent, and once my feet were firmly on the path I made my way over to where Marc stood at a fork.

“Two sets of tracks,” he said. “The trolls split up to follow both trails.”

“I see that.” I pointed to the right. “Chris went that way. His horse is shod, the other isn’t.” I took in the churned up snow and horse dung. “The second rider was waiting here for him. They knew there would be more than one and they wanted to split the trolls up.” I kicked a clump of snow. “Chris never intended to kill Roland with that shot – he knew they’d be shielded. He wanted the trolls to follow him.”

I started down the path Chris had taken, but not before casting a backward glance at my friends. “Keep your wits about you.”

We moved at a more measured pace, Marc in front, Victoria at my arm, and Vincent holding up the rear. All three of them had weapons in their hands, heads turning at the slightest sound, and eyes scanning our surroundings for any sign of motion. Or scanning them as well as they could. The sun was directly overhead, and even though the forest with its thick evergreens blocked most of the brightness, I still caught all three of them wiping their eyes with the back of their hands.

A scream echoed through the woods, and we stopped, waiting for another. “From the other trail, I think,” Marc said. “But hard to say whether it was human or troll. Let’s keep moving.”

We stepped into a clearing, and the sun beat off the pristine snow, making even my eyes sting.

“Stones and sky,” Vincent hissed. “Never thought I’d miss being stuck underground, but I do.”

They were walking blind, so I tried to look every which way for them. Despite the chill in the air, sweat dribbled down my back, and every bird chirp or crack of a branch made me jump. I rotated in a circle, peering into the depths of the forest as I turned. Though we were almost through the clearing, I rotated again. Then something caught my eye.

“Stop.”

Marc froze. I circled around him, noting the way the hoof prints moved up the side of the path, whereas the troll’s boot prints just… disappeared. “Give me your sword,” I said, then, taking the blade, I poked the ground in front of the last footprint.

Solid.

I shuffled forward a pace, and poked the ground. Nothing. A thought occurred to me, and I snapped my head up so hard my neck clicked. But there was no troll hiding in the branches above. Frowning, I took another step, and the ground fell out from under my foot.

I shrieked and threw my weight back, sprawling in the snow.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Victoria said, even as Marc added, “And the mice discover a way to kill the lions.”

Rolling onto my hands and knees, I stared into the hole that had nearly claimed me as its next victim. It was deep, and the bottom was covered in sharpened steel spikes. Impaled on one of them was a troll.

“Is he dead?” I asked, hardly willing to believe it was possible.

“Quite.” Marc dropped the edge of the white sheet of canvas that, along with a fresh dusting of snow, had been used to conceal the opening. Keen eyes would have seen the trap, but those of a running troll half blind from the sun? Not likely.

A grouse called from the woods, and I stiffened. “They’re watching us,” I said under my breath. If they were with Chris, then they were my friends, but I was in disguise and none but he would know Marc and the twins were allies. Lifting my hands to my mouth, I repeated the bird call.

Silence. And too much of it. “Companions of Chris will know who I am,” I whispered to Marc. He nodded once, and held out an arm to help me to my feet.

Taking a deep breath, I called out, “We’re no threat to you. I’m a friend of Christophe Girard.”

For several long and painful moments, no one responded, then the bushes rustled and Chris’s face emerged. “Cécile? What did you do to your hair?”

I winced at his use of my name, hoping the fairies weren’t watching. “Long story.” I gestured at the pit. “What’s going on here?”

He emerged from the bushes, and with a wave of his hand, four other faces appeared from the woods – all folk from Goshawk’s Hollow. “Tristan gave me a few ideas before I left,” he said. “The rest… Well, I remembered how blinded he was those first few days after he left Trollus, and I figured we could take advantage of that.”

“And you decided Roland should be your first target?” I balled my hands into fists, curbing the urge to lay into him for ruining our plans. What was done was done.

Chris shook his head. “We’ve been watching them. Roland refuses to come out into the sun, and besides, Lessa seems to control his every move. Didn’t seem likely she’d let him chase after us into the woods.” Scrubbing his fingers through his hair, he glanced into the pit. “The other two were our targets. Figured we’d take out as many as we could so Tristan’d have a clear shot at his brother. Speaking of which…”

“He’s protecting Trianon,” I said. “That’s why we’re here – he sent us to put a stop to Roland.”

Chris’s gaze shot back to me, his brow furrowing. “And judging from your tone, we muddied up your plans.”

I crossed my arms. “You’re supposed to be helping people to safety.”

“That’s already done,” he replied. “Your gran personally set to dragging everyone out of their homes and into the mountains, but…” He nodded at the four who’d overcome their fear of Marc and the twins and finally approached. “There’s plenty who’d rather fight than hide, and I’m one of them.”

I bristled at the implied accusation, but before I could respond, Marc asked, “How many have you killed?”

“Six.” Chris jerked his chin at the body in the pit. “If that scream was his friend, it will be seven. Cocky bastards are easy to separate, and they’ve not yet figured out our game.”

“That won’t last.” Magic pried one of the stakes out the ground, and Marc examined it thoughtfully as it floated in front of him. “All it takes is one getting out of a trap alive, or another coming along before you’ve reset it.”

The air filled with the thud of hooves, and a cloaked rider came through the trees, horse blowing hard in the frosty air. “We caught him! Worked like a charm.”

“Josette?” Her name came out of my mouth more as an accusation than a greeting, and my sister pulled her horse up hard. “Cécile? What happened to your hair?”

“Stones and sky! You’re supposed to be hiding in the mountains, not… not…” Lost for words, I gestured at the scene around us.

“I’m not hiding while some child-monster destroys my home,” she snapped. “I’ll leave that to his older brother.”

My jaw dropped and Chris stepped between us. “Good riding, Joss. Now get rid of the body and pull up the stakes. We’ll need them for the next trap we set.”

My sister winced. “There’s a problem with that.”

Chris frowned. “How so?”

She cast a sideways glance at Marc and the twins. “There’s some concern about getting too close to it.”

“Why?” Chris demanded. “You aren’t getting squeamish on me now, are you?”

“Hardly.” She sat up a bit straighter in the saddle. “But neither have I got stupid. No way I’m getting too close while the damn thing’s still alive.”

“
A
lbert
, Albert, Albert,” Marc said, stopping at the edge of the pit. “And here I believed your loyalty was to His Majesty. When did you turn traitor?”

I crept up next to him, leaning over the edge to see the troll who had once chased me through the streets of Trollus and been shamed by Tristan for it. He hung suspended on one side, spikes skewering both legs, his torso, and one arm. Though nothing vital appeared hit, the blood pooling beneath him told me it was only a matter of time before he succumbed to his injuries.

He spat a bloodstained glob. “Should’ve guessed it would be you three idiots helping the humans.”

“Says the one who met his end by falling into a hole,” Victoria said. She and Vincent had flanked the other side of the pit in case the captive tried anything creative. “Did the humans dangle a pastry as bait over their trap, or were you just too stupid to watch where you were going?”

He swore at her, but she only kicked snow in his face.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Marc said.

Albert laughed, then ground his teeth together against the pain. “Months. Since Thibault showed his true colors and wed his human-lover of a son to that red-haired whore. Weaklings like that don’t belong on the throne. Guillaume and I both recognized that it was time to switch sides.”

I frowned, realizing that he didn’t recognize me through my disguise.

“I knew it,” he gasped out. “Knew it the moment Tristan stopped me from killing
him
,” his eyes went to Chris, “And then humiliated me for the sake of that stupid girl: the Duke was right about him being a sympathizer. Worse than a sympathizer, he was willingly bedding that nasty little creature. Was in love with
it.
And Thibault
knew.
Put up with Tristan’s proclivities and forgave his treason. That says something.” He coughed. “That
means
something.”

Marc didn’t react. “Where is the Duke?”

Albert grinned. “Somewhere you’ll never find him.”

“He doesn’t know,” Vincent said. “Angoulême wouldn’t trust his plans to a turncoat commoner. Those human recruits bending knee to Roland probably know as much.”

“Maybe they do and maybe they don’t,” Albert responded. “But if you think to get the information by torturing it out of me, you’re wrong. I. Won’t. Tell. I’m a dead man as it is.”

Whether he’d given an oath to the Duke or was that convinced of his own fortitude in the face of torture, he meant what he said. He was as bound to tell the truth as any of them. Part of me wanted to tell them to let him die, but the cost of my earlier cruelty was fresh in my mind. Such a slippery slope it was to become cavalier with life just because the life in question was that of my enemy. It was the attitude of Thibault and Angoulême, and if I was no different, how could I claim to be better?

My hand went to the two remaining perfume bottles in my satchel, and with a sigh, I gave Marc a little nudge with my elbow. “What about for the chance to live?”

The injured troll’s eyes bulged with recognition. “You.” His face contorted with effort. But Albert was not Anaïs or Tristan, and the iron piercing his body kept him in check.

“That’s the offer,” I said. “Tell us where the Duke is hiding, and I’ll save your life.” I’d save it anyway, even if was for only as long as it took for him to go to trial for his actions. “I’ll even heal you first as a token of goodwill.”

Hope flashed across his face and I knew I’d offered the one thing that would cause him to betray the Duke. But my elation lasted only for a second, then he lifted his head and drove it down on the spike beneath it.

I clapped a hand over my mouth, wanting to turn away from the sight but forcing myself to bear witness to this latest victim of my actions.

“Angoulême wouldn’t have taken a traitor into the fold without oaths that ensured his loyalty,” Marc said, resting a hand on my shoulder. “He was a dead man regardless.”

I turned out of his grip and walked some distance away before resting my forehead against a tree, the frozen sap digging into my skin. Chris’s orders to remove the spikes and bury the body in the pit reached my ears but barely registered.

Snow crunched behind me. “Did you know him?” Joss asked.

I gave a slight nod.

“Was he a… friend?”

“No.” I turned my head, watching her squish a little pattern into the snow with the toe of her boot, her cheeks pinched in from where she was biting them with her teeth. “You were the other rider.”

Joss nodded without lifting her head. “They needed someone light who could ride fast, and after we saw what he’d done to Nomeny, everyone else was too afraid.”

Everyone but my little sister. The folk around us were all men and women grown – they should’ve been the ones to take the risk. Not a child. But she wouldn’t like being protected while her friends were in danger any more than I would. “It was well done,” I said.

Her eyes met mine. “Why hasn’t Tristan stopped him? Why isn’t he helping us?”

“He’s protecting Trianon.” My voice cracked as I gave the excuse, and I realized for the first time how terrible it sounded. How worthless it made those not in the capital feel, especially my sister, who had met him. Who was family to him. And pragmatically, I saw how swiftly we were losing our chance to convince the people of the Isle to rally to our cause.

“He can’t,” I whispered, and shivered as a cold wind brushed against my neck. “Is there somewhere safe we can talk?”

“Camp’s got a cabin circled with steel,” she said. “You can ride with me.”

I followed her to where her horse was tethered to a branch. She slipped the bit back in the gelding’s mouth, checked the girth, then fiddled with the buckle of her stirrup. “Cécile?”

My skin prickled. “Yes?”

“Is mother all right?”