Witch Bane (20 page)

While he was looking at Jonas’s back, the
streaks of his graying hair swaying before him as he made his way
through the trees, it was the circle he was really seeing. He could
imagine the glistening flesh of the young women, the fine sheen of
sweat layered across their bodies as they took turns with the
warlocks. Their smiles were bright in his mind, their laughs
ringing out happily in his ears. He could even smell the fire as it
crackled alongside, the scent of smoke and brimstone…

His eyes went wide as his mind snapped back
to reality. He ducked and rolled away as a scythe of fire cleaved
the air just above his head. His side screamed, but the wash of
adrenaline numbed it almost instantly. He hopped to his feet at the
apex of his tumble, turning to face the direction the attack had
come from. When he spied the young warlock who had been in the
caverns, he slipped behind a tree for cover, cursing himself.

“
Run, Jonas,” John shouted. The old
man wasted no time in listening. The warlock gave Sebastian a grim
smile. “Did you think we wouldn’t notice you abducting one of our
men?”

Sebastian
had
hoped exactly that. He sighed, realizing his
exhaustion led to him being blind to the foolishness of his
actions, not even realizing the warlock has snuck up on him. He
knew his father would never have been so careless.

“
Stand aside, brother. I have no
intention of harming Jonas. I seek only to find my way back to your
camp.”

“
So you can lead the Council to us?”
John shook his head. “It has not escaped our notice that the Red
Witch and her pets arrived only after you and your father were
brought among us.”

Sebastian smiled grim. “That witch will
never bother anyone, ever again. I’ve seen to that, so you can
forget your foolish notions of me or my father being in league with
the Council.”

John laughed as his own smile grew broad.
“You expect me to believe you’ve slain the Red Witch? If so, it is
you who’s the fool.”

A ball of red flames coalesced in his hand,
and John hurled it without hesitation. Sebastian dove away, knowing
he would regret the landing, as the flames engulfed the tree he’d
just stood behind. He hit the ground with a grunt, forcing his mind
to shut out the pain so he could continue on. He managed barely
that. His adrenaline was already fading.

On his feet once more, Sebastian wound his
way through the maze of tree trunks and shrubs, looking to circle
back on the warlock. John made it easy. He barreled straight ahead
casting off searing balls of fire in every direction, setting the
woods ablaze. Even if he didn’t manage to hit Sebastian, it
wouldn’t be long before the blaze would become a beacon to every
Red Guard soldier in the area, each of whom would be more than
willing to finish the job the resistance warlock had started.
Sebastian knew the longer the confrontation dragged on, the less
likely he was to make it out of it alive.

Less than pleased with having to face down
another magic-wielding foe so soon after the Red Witch, he
understood he couldn’t sit at range. He was too tired to draw upon
a respectable shield to defend against the magical assault. That
left him few options: charge, flee, or stand his ground and
die.

He groaned aloud, his head choosing the
second option, his body standing in defiance by choosing the first.
He ducked around and ran back toward the flames that licked wild at
the forest. The smoke roiled black and filled the woods with
shifting shadows. Sebastian knew his best chance lie in the
flickering distortion of the fire, so he headed into the thick of
it. Waves of heat washed over him and he was reminded of the Red
Witch’s assault. He wondered if there was a deeper well of power
within him, though he doubted he had the fortitude to seek it out
even if there were. His every step was leaden, and he could feel
himself slowing down.

Another burst of fire erupted beside him,
but he just kept running, the heat of its near-miss stinging his
arm. With John closing, he didn’t have much time left. He darted
into the swirling smoke and dug for the remnants of his energy.
Suddenly nauseous, he dropped to a squat and fought past it,
willing his magic to the fore. It came but with great reluctance.
He wasn’t sure it was enough.

John burst from the trees just a few feet
before him, his eyes darting left and right with manic fervor.
Sebastian knew then his power hadn’t failed him. John growled and
ran, clearly not having seen Sebastian. As much as he hated to harm
the warlock, Sebastian understood he could not contain John, as
weak as he was. There would be no leaving him alive. With no choice
left, Sebastian leapt out and drew his quicksilver blade across the
throat of the warlock.

The shadows faded, John turned to Sebastian
just as the blade cleaved through his neck. He stumbled, wide-eyed,
grasping at his throat as he tumbled forward, crashing face first
to the earth. Sebastian didn’t watch him die. He had no stomach for
what he’d done.

He left the man behind as he fled the fire,
which burned behind him, hoping the flames rid the forest of any
evidence of the warlock’s death. Once away from the obscuring
smoke, he sheathed his sword and took a quick moment to find his
bearings. He determined the direction Jonas had fled and followed
after. Through the exhausted haze, he ran, forcing his body beyond
the pain. It was a trick his father had taught him, a means of
extending his energy past his normal limits. He would suffer for it
later; if he survived.

Sebastian flew through the trees, staying
low and letting nothing slow him. Trusting in Jonas’s sense of
self-preservation, he felt he knew the direction the man had gone.
It was now a matter of speed and endurance. He was certain of the
first, so that was what he put all his effort into.

He had run for nearly ten minutes, his lungs
like burning coals in his chest, when he spied the old man stomping
into a clearing just a dozen yards ahead. Sebastian pushed even
harder. His mind registered a sound beside him in slow motion.
Powerful arms wrapped about his torso and locked tight before he
could even think to react. A massive weight on top, he was forced
to the ground, a hand pressed over his mouth to muffle any noise.
Stars whirled before his eyes and he wanted to vomit, only holding
back to keep from choking.

Sebastian was rolled into a seated position,
strong legs locking over his to keep him in place, his head forced
in the direction of the fleeing Jonas. Lost in the fugue of pain
and confusion, he heard the old man cry out and watched as a shadow
landed on his back. Swift blows sent the man toppling to the
ground. Jonas lay there stiff, the dark shape standing over
him.

Sebastian recognized the assassin:
Shade.

She bent down and pulled Jonas up, tossing
him over her shoulder as though he weighed nothing. She took a
moment to glance about, and then headed into the woods, back the
way she’d come. She was gone from sight almost immediately, leaving
behind no sign of her passage.

Certain whoever it was that held him had no
intention of killing him, because he could have done it already,
Sebastian simply waited and tried to catch his breath.

At long last, his captor whispered in his
ear, his voice raspy and rough “Sit still and do nothing stupid,
and I’ll release you.”

Sebastian nodded, and the man slid his legs
away, getting to his feet behind Sebastian before releasing the
hold on his mouth. Once he heard the man step back, Sebastian got
to his feet and faced his captor. Though he didn’t recognize him,
there was no doubting his calling.

Broad-chested and powerful, the man’s arms
were like great oaks extending past the armored sleeves of his
brigandine mail. His forearms were covered in swirling tattoos, and
Sebastian could sense the power in the man. A plain sword hung from
his belt, off the left hip, and a great axe was slung across his
back, the silver of the blade peeking out from the wild black of
his hair. The strap was buried beneath the flowing beard that hung
over his chest. Sebastian let his gaze drift upward and gray eyes
met his stare. A palpable anger stirred in their depths.

“
You are a fool, boy,” the man told
him, his tone of voice so similar to Sebastian’s father. It spoke
of an authority that silenced any response Sebastian might have
formed. “You and the other would have led the witches straight to
the resistance.” He growled. “Be grateful I pulled you away when I
did.”

Sebastian nodded, glad the behemoth had
stopped him, but still uncertain as to why. The man must have seen
the question on his face.

“
You are the son of General Darius,
are you not?”

He stared at the man a moment before finally
deciding to answer honestly. “Yes, I am. Sebastian. And you
are?”

“
I am Victor Graves, though I suspect
you might know me as the Lord of the Hunt. No doubt your father has
spoken of me, and likely quite unkindly.” A crooked smile broke
beneath his beard.

Sebastian
had
heard of the Lord, his name attached to
nearly every story his father ever told him of the witches hunting
down warlocks. He had been the man who scented their trails,
leading the witches to their kill. As the Lord had said, it hadn’t
been kind words his father had spoken. Sebastian felt the heat at
his cheeks.

“
The hunter of warlocks appears
suddenly to rescue one.” His hand went to his sword. “You’ll
forgive me if I doubt your sincerity.”

The Lord kept his hands out in front, his
smile not dimming. “So much like your father.” He shook his head.
“You know well enough I could have killed you had I wanted to.
Better still, I could have let Shade take you.” He laughed as if
imagining it. “She’s a might bit angry with you and would love
nothing more than to carve you apart,
piece-by-bloody-warlock-piece. That’s not to mention what the
witches would do once Shade had her fun.”

Sebastian tightened his grip on his
hilt.

“
Once more, had I wanted you dead, or
hung upon the walls of Corilea, that’s where you’d be, so calm
yourself.”

“
I’m supposed to believe you saved me
out of some sense of altruism, oh servant of the
Council”

“
Hardly, boy. Darius has done me a
great service, so I return that favor by sparing you the bite of
Shade’s swords.”

Sebastian grinned. “Then I guess we’re
even.”

The Lord’s grin grew wider. “Again…hardly.
Your father and I are, at least as far as you’re concerned. You, on
the other hand, owe me for the stupidity you almost inflicted upon
those at the camp.”

“
I—” Sebastian started, but the Lord
waved him to silence.

“
While I have saved you from facing
the witches’ interrogation, Elizabeth’s pet will soon find good
cause to give up his master’s location, regardless.”

“
As soon as he regains consciousness,
most likely,” Sebastian corrected. “Jonas has no loyalty to anyone
save himself.”

“
Then it is best that you are on your
way now, boy. I need you to warn Elizabeth before her dog awakens
to change sides.”

“
What do you get out of
this?”

“
My concerns are my own, boy, but if
you need a reason you need only to remember your father is there
among the resistance. Should the witches find the camp, he will die
the same as the rest…if fate smiles on him, that is. Do not waste
time with questions.”

Sebastian stared at the man, recognizing the
truth of his words, regardless his cause. He nodded. “Tell me where
they are, and I’ll do as I’m asked.”

“
Good.” The Lord rattled off the
location of the camp, repeating it twice. “Once you arrive, tell
Emerald I will find her, no matter where they go.”

His eyes narrowed, Sebastian wondered what
connection the Lord had to Emerald, but there was no time to ask.
“I will.” He gave a shallow bow and focused his will once more to
ward off the pain that was sure to come.

Without another glance at the Lord,
Sebastian ran into the trees, following the directions he’d been
given. He worried about the Lord’s motives, but knew well enough
the Red Guard flooded the forests, looking for both him and the
resistance. Had the man wanted his death, he could have easily
stood back and let Shade deliver it. No, the Lord had his reasons
for sparing Sebastian and they had to do with Emerald. Tired as he
was, though, nothing made any sense.

He concentrated on his feet, keeping them in
line, step after step. If he made it to the resistance camp before
the witches found it, there would be time to wonder about the
rest.

Twenty-Four

The screech of griffins drew Deborah’s eyes
to the sky. She watched as the incoming transport swung above,
coming about to land. She spied the green of Gracelin’s robes
amidst the red of the Guard as the transport hurled past.

She turned to a nearby soldier, pointing to
where the griffins were coming down. “Bring the Green to me as soon
as they’re down.” The soldier darted off.

She couldn’t help but smile. Gracelin would
not have returned so soon without good news. Deborah paced as she
waited, shooing the gathered soldiers away. She wanted privacy when
the other witch arrived. She didn’t have long to wait.

Gracelin strolled toward her through the
trees, her hands clasped before her. At her back was Shade; over
the assassin’s shoulder squirmed a large man. He blustered as they
drew closer, his complaints only making Deborah’s smile widen.
Gracelin came alongside her, saying nothing, as Shade dumped the
man in front of Deborah. A hand on his shoulder, the assassin spun
him about to face the White Witch.