Rise (War Witch Book 1) (25 page)

Okay
, she thought.
I guess I won't be doing that.

Getting out of bed, she headed into the bathroom, taking the time to wash her face and pull herself fully from the deep sleep she’d fallen into before getting dressed and heading out in search of her girlfriend. Odds were, she had woken earlier and gone looking for something to eat, so that meant the kitchen.

Which meant Esteban, and no lovely morning cuddles. Her Avatar whistled out a dirge, making her chuckle silently. She wasn't sure which of them was more into the young woman at this point.

Pausing to glance out the window, she trotted down stairs, coming up short at the sound of laughter that drifted from the kitchen door. Hesitant, she eased to it, stepping in with a bewildered look on her face.

Chara sat on the counter, eating an omelet, as Esteban lounged nearby, both of them laughing. Ramora stood in the door way, utterly confused by this. Last night, they’d wanted to kill each other.

"Oh, good morning, Ramora," Chara called.

"Lady Ramora," the big Cat bowed. "Would you care for some breakfast?"

Nodding, she moved to the island, watching as the Cat set about fixing her something to eat. While his back was turned, she gave Chara a curious look, wondering just what had happened to make the two so at ease with each other.

"What?" the young woman asked. "You wanted me to apologize, so I did. Then we got to talking, and it turns out, we actually like each other."

Ramora looked over at the Cat.

"It's true," he agreed. "We have a great deal in common."

She gave Chara a quizzical look.

"When you’re right, you don't have to look surprised, you know," the young woman told her.

Holding her hands up in surrender, she let the matter go. Still, it was odd, how comfortable they were around each other so suddenly. Putting that aside, she was glad they were getting along better. It would make things easier.

She leaned on the island, watching Esteban prepare her meal as he and Chara chatted, laughing easily and often. Her sense of uncertainty only grew as they did so, for they acted like old friends, and more than that, the usually affectionate young woman never rose from where she sat.

A sense of unease settled into her heart quickly. Something was off here, she just didn't know what.

"Lady Ramora," Esteban said as he slid her the omelet. "I trust I recovered everything you will need to help father?"

She nodded, signing to Chara.

"She says you did, and thanks you for it," Chara interpreted. "Some of her items are irreplaceable."

"Excellent," the big Cat nodded. "I must go attend to father. If you'll both excuse me."

They waved as he headed away, leaving them alone. Chara stayed on the counter, staring at the door with a slight smile on her face. Ramora considered that for a bit, wondering what had changed.

Getting the young woman’s attention, she asked how she’d slept.

Chara shrugged. "Not so great. I think I was too tense when I went to bed. I'm sure I'll sleep better tonight."

Ramora gave her a wink and smile as she suggested helping with that.

Chara blushed a bit. "Maybe we shouldn't rush into anything."

The warrior's smile faded at that.

"I know, I know," Chara sighed. "I was the one being all gung ho for it. It's just...I don't want to dive in headfirst. I'm not saying no, just maybe, slow down a little, you know?"

Ramora nodded slowly.

Chara looked around the kitchen. "I'm not feeling very sure of myself."

Forcing herself to set aside her own desires, Ramora considered that a moment, and had to accept that it made sense. Giving her companion a gentle smile, she nodded again, waving the matter off.

"You sure you're not mad?" Chara asked.

With a nod, the Blessed told her not to worry about it.
Slow is better anyway.

"Thanks, Ramora," Chara said with a smile. "I'm glad you understand."

She made it clear she completely understood, and was fine with taking things at a more relaxed pace. Her Avatar twittered that she was a liar, so she told it to pipe down.

"Okay, well, I'm going to go clean up. We've got a lot to do today," Chara said as she hopped down, heading for the door.

Ramora straightened up, holding an arm out, but the young woman went right past her, vanishing up the stairs. She stood there for a minute, trying to sort out when taking things slow had turned into giving the cold shoulder.

Or maybe she was just over-reacting. It wasn't like she'd spent that much time around mortals for the last decade. It was possible she was reading too much into it.

Shaking her head, she turned back to her breakfast, deciding the best course of action was to let Chara take the lead on this. It was always better to move forward at the pace the other person was most comfortable with.

Unable to shake the feeling that something had changed, she ate her breakfast alone and in silence.

IMICOT
LAID IN HIS BED
, staring at the window nearby, wondering what he was going to do. His time grew so terribly short now, and his son, his beautiful boy, would be alone in the world for the first time. It plagued him, the idea of Esteban having no one to turn to.

He knew he could easily send the boy back to the Savage Realm. He was weak, but he still had enough strength to work the Nexus Gate and open a portal. The problem, however, was what to do after that. The keep had to be sealed away when he was gone, and that, he could not do alone.

He knew he could ask Ramora for help with this, just as he knew she would do it. Especially if he told her of Deacon. Another of his failures, he’d tried so hard to be a good mentor to the young sorcerer, but over the years, his protégé had turned greedy, selfish, and fascinated with the darker arts.

The last time he’d seen Deacon, the young man had told him he would kill Imicot and take possession of the keep, for the glory of the Demon Gods. He wanted the Nexus Gate. The old man knew the keep had to be sealed away before that could happen. The amount of damage a sorcerer turned to evil could do with it was impossible to even guess at.

Weary from his age, Imicot knew he couldn’t fight the younger sorcerer, either. While he was infinitely more powerful, his body was too frail. Likewise, Esteban couldn’t hold his former student at bay, at least, not for long. This also worried the old sorcerer, for if Deacon gained control of his home, he couldn't even begin to imagine the terrible things the corrupted mage would do to his son.

Which was why Esteban had to return to his home realm. Though, Imicot had come to realize, the boy would be every inch as lost there as he would be if he was left in the Middle World. He knew so little of his home, the people, and the customs of the world of his birth. He would be an alien in his own land.

There were no good options. Send him home, to a world he didn't know. Leave him here, and risk slavery, or worse. Have him stay after the sealing, trapped in a timeless state forever. None of these choices were good enough in his mind for the gentle-natured Werejaguar.

Though, there was another option now, one he knew he had to consider, though he didn’t wish to. The arrival of the Blessed of Ramor and her young friend had opened a door that he was willing to chance. Esteban could leave with them. In their company, he would be safe, and see the wider world around him, without being endangered.

Thanks to the blood ritual by which most sorcerers created the Werebeasts that served them, Werefolk had a bad reputation in the Middle World. Imicot knew the terrible price that was paid during the creation of these servants, and it was something he found disgusting. Far too few people knew of the Savage Realm, though, and would mistake Esteban for one of these magic-made false Weres.

He would face a life of hardship and sorrow on his own. Worse, he would be captured and pressed into service by a sorcerer of questionable scruples who believed him to have escaped his maker. Kind-hearted as he was, Esteban wouldn’t survive long under such harsh conditions. It was something he couldn’t stand the thought of.

No, he sighed, his only chance now to give Esteban a decent life was to send him away with the Blessed and her friend. They would protect him, and in turn, he knew, Esteban would protect them. It wasn't his best choice now; it was his only one.

Saddened by this, and knowing he must ask more of the two women than he had a right, Imicot made up his mind to speak with them about it. The only thing left was how to bring it up. Asking for such a large favor, after already requesting he be allowed to confess his sins, was a delicate matter.

Perhaps the young woman would be the best one to approach about it. While he had no doubt Ramora would agree to it, he felt guilty asking it of her. She was already doing so much for him, after all. He had no desire to enter his afterlife with yet another thing weighing down his soul.

Imicot put away his troubled thoughts as Esteban entered his rooms. Offering the boy a smile, he left the matter for later, when he could think on it properly. There was time yet, he felt. Just enough.

"Father," Esteban said, kneeling by the bed. "How are you this morning?"

"Tired, my boy," the old man said, resting a hand on his head. "But still alive, so I’m thankful for that. How are our guests?"

"I prepared them breakfast, and they are well," the Werecat replied. "The Lady Chara especially seems to be feeling better."

Imicot nodded, rubbing his son’s ears. "I'm glad to hear that. The journey to get here was taxing, no doubt."

"Indeed," he rumbled. "I had a chance to speak with her at length this morning. She’s very kind."

The old man relaxed upon hearing that. "Is she now? I look forward to getting to speak with her myself."

"You’ll like her, father," Esteban said. "She’s a wonderful person. Warm, funny, and good-hearted. I feel fortunate to have met her."

Definitely he needed to approach her, he thought as he told the Were, "Perhaps once Ramora and I are done, I can spend some time with her."

"I’ll see to it," the Cat promised. "Before that, though, would you like to take breakfast here?"

"No, I think I'd like to get out of these rooms for a while. They've grown stuffy to me." The sorcerer waved a hand feebly about.

"Very well, father. I’ll help you down after your bath."

The old man snorted. "Yes, yes. Let's get on with it, then."

Esteban's ears lowered as his tail twitched. "You would prefer not to?"

"Esteban, at my age, the only thing a bath solves is to make you feel more chilled than you already do," he chuckled.

"Perhaps so, but we have guests," the Cat chided, gathering the old man from his bed gently.

Imicot chuckled. "Two lovely young women, and I'm too old to savor that, so what does it matter if I smell of farts, eh?"

"Really, father," the Jaguar sighed.

Imicot laughed as his son tended to him. Such a good boy, he was. So kind. Yes, he would speak with the Lady Chara about it. He just hoped she would agree. His son needed a friend.

"So, what is it you’re going to need me to do?" Chara asked as Ramora gathered one of her knapsacks and set it on the bed.

Rummaging around in it for a moment, she produced a small, red leather-bound book, held closed with a blood-red ribbon. Opening it, she turned to a section and held it out, letting Chara know she needed to read the chapter.

"Is this clerical stuff?” the young woman asked as she examined the fine penmanship.

Ramora gave her a sarcastic look.

"Right. Of course it is. What else would it be," Chara acknowledged. "I'm just going to shut up now."

The warrior reached out and squeezed her hand. To her relief, the young woman returned the gesture.

"Sorry. I'm just nervous. I've never done anything like this before," she said.

Ramora gave her a curious look, asking if she’d never confessed to a priest.

Chara gave a shameful look at anything but her friend. "No. We didn't get many of them visiting Rheumer. Whenever I was in Adel, I was always too busy."

Offering a comforting smile, the Blessed told her she would be happy to help her with that.

"Maybe later," Chara nodded. "Right now, Imicot needs you more."

With an understanding look, Ramora began unpacking the tools of her priesthood. The ceremonial dagger, gold hilt fashioned in the likeness of a wolf, the red yarn she would need, a necklace with the symbol of Ramor upon it, and a red silk dress.

"Whoa," Chara whistled. "Are you going to wear that?"

The Blessed nodded, holding up the floor-length silk garment for her to see. Chara fingered the sleeve, looking impressed.

"I didn't know you wore dresses."

Ramora gave her a huffy look, pointing out that she wore dresses all the time.

"Uh, okay," the young woman said. "All I've seen you in is leather, armor, and nothing. Not like I'm going to know."

Ramora smirked, asking which she liked best.

Chara flushed at that. "Focus on your priesting, will you?"

The Blessed casually pointed out she could do that nude, and then snickered at how red the younger woman’s face got.