Witch Bane (10 page)

Sebastian willed his magic to life,
summoning the entirety of it, for this was no peasant resistance
member drawing down before him. He was in for a fight. Deep down he
felt a tingle of anticipation, a twinge of raw excitement. This is
what he’d trained his whole life for, what his father had endlessly
drilled him to do. He hoped he was as ready as he’d always
believed.

“
You’ve made an enemy of the wrong
man,” he said, tightening the reins on his voice to keep it
steady.

The shadow laughed, the voice doused in a
lilting melody.

Sebastian groaned at the sound. “I should
have known you were a woman. One of the witches’ pets, I
presume?”

She laughed again.
“
The
Pet, I’m afraid…for you,
at least.” Her amusement sparkled in her eyes. “My name is Shade,
though you’ll not have the occasion to use it beyond the moment.
And you are?”

He waggled a finger at her. “I’m not as easy
as that. If you want answers, you’ll have to romance me a little.”
He set his sword before him, her gaze sliding to it for just an
instant before it snapped back to his.

“
A Quicksilver blade. How…archaic.”
She shifted her swords to catch the light, blue stars shining
within the obsidian. “Was it an inheritance from your great
grandfather, or his, perhaps?”

He examined her swords and recognized the
dark luster of Relan steel, the metal magicked to hold a razor’s
edge forever. Even hammered thin, as it was in her blades, the
Relan was durable, its steel known for resisting rust and wear long
after its owner had gone to dust. Sebastian knew of such swords,
thanks to his father incessant lessons.

“
You’ve a serpent’s tongue beneath
that mask you wear, assassin, but ancient sword in hand and my back
turned to you when you arrived, and yet still, here I stand. It
would seem your tongue speaks for more than just your mouth, and it
speaks poorly of your skills.”

Shade lowered her stance. The humor had
soured in the blue of her eyes. “I did not come for you, warlock,
but be certain, the Council will reward me quite handsomely for
ridding the world of yet one more abomination, especially one so
crass.” Her swords rang together as she came forward.

Sebastian loosed his will and the green of
his protective shield sprung up around him. There was no doubt the
woman was faster, her two swords skewing that advantage even
further into her favor, so he moved to counter her momentum. He
attacked. Sebastian knew he couldn’t let her dictate the pace.

Caught half into her step, Shade pivoted to
parry, their swords clashing. She used both blades for cover as she
darted away, her advance halted. Sebastian did not give her time to
readjust and take the lead. He went after her, using his reach to
keep her at arm’s length. The silvered tip of his sword flicked at
her eyes, then her throat. She shifted to block each attempt, her
own swords held close to her body to speed her defense. He kept at
her, stepping in low but winging his strikes high, willing his
magic to reinforce his shield on the side that faced her. A sliver
of a smile touched his lips as he watched each blow ring out
against her Relan blades, specks of gray dotting the black. The
quicksilver wore even upon the unnatural steel.

Shade fell back under the assault and
Sebastian was sure he saw a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. He
pounced. His blows random, making sure he didn’t fall into a
discernable rhythm, he closed on her. She drew back even further,
staying in tight, but offering no offense. He had her on the
run.

His smile stretched his cheeks as he thrust
at her. She batted at his blade as he spun it in his wrist; a
feint. His true strike hurtled toward her cheek. Shade rolled her
head to the side, just enough for the edge of his sword to whistle
past without drawing blood.

Her crystalline laugh broke from beneath her
mask…

…
and then there were three of
her.

Sebastian blinked, his sword stayed for but
a heartbeat. The pause nearly cost him his life.

Six obsidian swords arced toward him from
different directions, their blurred trails overlapping. He shifted
to defend against those in the center but found only air. A flash
of agony told him which of the blades were true, a crimson gash
opening between the ribs on his left side. His pain was mirrored an
instant later, the tip of Shade’s sword biting into his right hip,
carving a coin-sized hunk of meat away. He cursed as he staggered
back, his distraction having weakened his shield. He imagined the
damage she’d have done had it not been there at all.

“
You nearly had me there, warlock.”
She gave a subtle nod of her head as the other
Shade’s
misted to dust and faded away. “I
applaud the skill of the swordmaster who shaped your arm, but he
failed you in the most important of lessons: You lack discipline.”
She took a short step closer, her weapons like serpents coiled
before her. “I have your measure now.”

Sebastian drew in a sharp breath, his ribs
on fire. He could feel the warmth of his blood as it moistened his
side. Icy pain skewered his hip as he adjusted his stance. She was
right, but for all the things his father had been unable to teach
him, courage and tenacity had not been among them. Sebastian pushed
aside his pain, clearing his mind. A cool numbness settled over him
as drew himself up to meet Shade’s approach.

“
You presume I thought you worth my
full effort, assassin.” He smiled, giving her a wink. “Perhaps it
is I that now has the measure of you.”

The flutter of her swords paused for just an
instant before they resumed their dance. “You bluff well, but the
dice have yet to be cast. Let’s see where they fall.” She leapt
forward.

His sword caught the first of her blows and
he shifted sideways, letting the second cleave air. He felt the
wind of its passage as he pivoted away from her to gain space. It
had been too close, but he’d no time to dwell on it. Shade closed
once more, sharpened death seeking his heart. Instinct took over
and he deflected her strikes, slipping aside to look for an opening
that didn’t appear. Though he recognized her pattern, she was too
quick. Were he to risk a counter, her blade would find his flesh.
If that didn’t kill him, the blow after would.

His shield flickered with angry sparks while
her swords clipped its edges, the blades growing steadily closer.
The pain at his side was also growing, edging beyond his ability to
mute its sharpness. He could feel the wound oozing at every
movement, the gash tearing further as though it were a seam
unraveling. He, too, would soon unravel.

Sebastian’s thoughts sluggish, he fell for a
feint he recognized a blink of an eye too late. Her sword split his
shield and carved a fiery line down his chest and across his
abdomen, the buckle of his belt reflecting the blow before it could
go any lower. He leapt away but his legs lacked the strength, and
he stumbled. The ground filled his vision as he spun. He struck it
hard. It took everything he had to hold onto his sword, but he kept
it, clutched tight in aching fingers. He rolled to find Shade
standing over him, the tips of her swords hovering but inches from
him, one at his eye, the other his heart.

The
twang
of his father’s crossbow sounded like a
choir of angels to Sebastian’s ears. The blue of Shade’s eyes
withered under the black as she spun to be away, but he reveled in
the sound. To hear its song was to be too late to defend against
it.

Shade stumbled as a feathered bolt appeared
in her shoulder, a misty cloud of crimson exploding in a halo. She
spun about and stared at its source. Sebastian saw her eyes go wide
right before a growl slipped free of her black mask. Her voice
still rumbling, she turned and ran. Before the crossbow sang again,
she was among the trees, one more shadow amidst the millions.

Sebastian rolled his eyes to where the bolt
had come and spied his father coming toward him. Darius held his
crossbow high as he scanned the woods, his advance seeming to take
forever. At last he came and knelt beside Sebastian, a strong hand
on his arm.

“
Can you walk?”

Sebastian hadn’t thought about it. He
shrugged and felt pain well up as though he’d stoked a fire. He
grimaced and let his father help him to his feet, sheathing his
sword out of habit. His head swam and his thoughts were sluggish,
blurred and fleeting. Through the whitened spots that flickered
before his sight, he looked to his ribs, his father supporting him.
His side was red with his blood, its stain all the way to his boot.
He looked away from the puckered, black-lipped smile cut into his
flesh and let his father take his weight. Darius stared at him
through a mask of stone.

“
What took you so long?” Sebastian’s
voice cracked at the question.

“
I followed our friend when he ran;
needed to see which way he went. I thought you’d hold her off
longer.”

“
She cheated.”

Darius smirked. “How many times must I tell
you, boy? There is no cheating, only alive and dead.”

“
And the wounded in between,”
Sebastian muttered.

“
Get used to it—”

Sebastian growled, “I know, I know. It’s
what warriors do.”

Darius started to respond, but the crunch of
a branch behind them startled them both. His father spun about,
dragging Sebastian along bodily, crossbow in the lead.

“
There’ll be no need for that,” a
quiet voice told them.

A woman stood at the tree line, her hands
raised to show she meant no harm. She stood impassive, waiting.
Though the years had settled on her face, they stole none of her
beauty. Her long black hair was swept back over her shoulders in
waves, snaky streaks of blue running its length. Deep pools of
brown stared at them with a practiced patience, offsetting the
paleness of her narrow cheeks. Full lips encircled her mouth,
parted so slightly a glimmer of teeth shown through. Dressed in
robes that matched her eyes, Sebastian didn’t need to smell the
subtle scent of brimstone to know what she was.

His father’s response, however, surprised
him. “Have you shelter?”

The woman nodded. “Not far.”

Darius let the crossbow drop to its strap.
“Then lead on.”

Sebastian turned to stare at his father as
the woman spun on her heals and strolled into the trees. Darius
must have seen the question in his eyes.

“
Fortune takes many shapes, son. One
must not discount its opportunity, whatever form it might deign to
show us.”

Though his thoughts were too clouded to
winnow out the meaning behind the statement, Sebastian knew but one
absolute in his life; the trust of his father. He settled into his
arm and did his best not to be a burden. If Darius believed it best
to follow this witch to her domain, then Sebastian would not
question the choice.

Eleven

Every step heavy with pain, it seemed a
lifetime before Sebastian felt the tingle of a camouflage warding
and stepped through its illusory cover into the witch’s encampment.
It was an impressive one, given the scope of what lay beyond.

He blinked against the brightness of the
campfires, which appeared out of nowhere, blocked from sight
outside the sorcery’s veil. The quiet sounds of the forest gave way
to the muted voices of the camp, raucous to his ears after the near
silence outside the warding. The voices dropped away as the witch
led them inside.

“
Devlin!” the woman called out. “Fetch
me Karil, and tell the woman to hurry. We’ve a man to
tend.”

A young man, no older than Sebastian, jumped
up from his seat at the fire and bolted off into the camp. He
disappeared behind the numerous tents and lean-tos that littered
the woods. The witch turned to an elderly woman hanging a black
kettle over the nearest cook fire with leathered hands, her face
seemingly carved in granite. “Be a dear, and find me a tent, Freya.
We have a wounded guest with a need for peace and privacy.” The
witch’s voice bore none of the sharpness it held when she addressed
the boy. She turned to Darius as the woman of stone set off with
only a wave. “Follow her and our healer will be along shortly. We
will speak once his wounds are tended to.”

Darius nodded and headed off after the old
woman. They wound their way through the trees and tents for a few
moments, until at last they came to a simple tent. It was held in
place by ropes wrapped about the great trunks, each line pulled
tight to raise the cloth walls high enough to stand inside. The
woman slipped into the tent and gestured for them to follow. Darius
eased Sebastian through the opening and led him to the cot from
which the woman pulled the blankets aside.

“
Karil will see to you soon,” she told
Sebastian as she helped his father ease him onto the soft cot. Once
he was down, Freya gave Darius a pat on the back. “He’s in good
hands.” She quietly fled the tent, leaving them alone.

Sebastian groaned his thanks at her back and
let his head fall against the down pillow. He could sleep
forever.

“
Eyes open, boy,” his father told him,
a rough hand shaking his shoulder.

Sebastian glared up at him. “Bastard.”

Darius laughed. “I’ll give you that one, but
mind your tongue once the stitches are in.”

A flurry of movement at the entryway drew
their eyes. Sebastian felt a smile stretch his lips despite his
pain. If the other witch could be seen as beautiful despite her
years, then he had no words to describe the woman who ducked
beneath the flaps and entered the tent. Her eyes were like two seas
of brilliant blue, set upon a face that looked as though it had
been carved by the hand of master sculptor, each piece chiseled to
perfection. While age had lent its hand to draw shallow lines at
the corner of her eyes and about the curve of her reddened lips,
they did nothing to mar the perfection beneath. She moved to his
side with a lioness’ poise, setting her bundles down beside the
cot.