Rise (War Witch Book 1) (35 page)

"He's been different since Emiline died," Talbor pointed out.

"True," she agreed. "But not to that degree. No, he's doing what he feels he must, for the good of Heaven. We've just lived under the laws of Grannax too long to understand how he could do what he has."

"You seem terribly certain of that," he said.

"The alternative is too unthinkable," she told him. "I can't consider that he’s been swayed to the side of the Demon Gods."

Nodding, Talbor turned back to Ramora as Adalynn took her leave, having told him all she’d come to say. He watched as his Blessed stood, and crawled into bed, not even bothering to undress. His heart broke as she reached out for the woman that wasn't there.

"What have you done, Rakiss?" he asked. "And why?"

Ramora jerked awake as the tower shuddered, a heavy booming knocking her from her uneasy slumber as surely as the shaking. Sitting up, she sought her sword and found it, scrambling across the bed to get to it.

A second tremor ran through the floor, nearly dumping her from her feet as she slung the sheath over her shoulder, tightening the strap. The booming echoed, making her abandon her armor and boots as she rushed for the door. This could only mean one thing.

Gaining the hallway, the tower shuddered again, the night sky outside the window lighting up as the barrier was struck, sounding like thunder. Staggering to the glass, she looked out, but could see nothing from that far up, through the falling snow.

"No, not now," she heard Esteban growl as he hurried from his room, poleaxe in hand, his tortoise necklace bouncing against his bare chest.

Spotting each other, they nodded and he raced down the stairs, Ramora turning to follow when she saw Chara step from his room, pulling her pants on. For a moment, the Blessed couldn’t move, shock fracturing her heart.

The barrier lit up again, booming as the tower vibrated. Pushing down her pain, she turned and followed the Werecat down the stairs. They had eighteen floors to descend; there wasn't time for personal problems.

Behind her, Chara stared after them, having seen the look on Ramora's face. She stepped back into the room to retrieve her weapons, feeling shame and disgust at herself.

Hurrying as fast as she could, Ramora felt the attacks on the barrier intensify, the entire keep shaking almost nonstop as the attacker outside sought entrance. Somewhere ahead of her, Esteban was alone, should the walls be breached. That thought sped her feet more than any other.

I won't let an innocent fall today
, she told herself.
Not today.

Her Avatar sang to her a song of speed, and hesitantly, she took its advice, pausing to inscribe the ruins she needed on her arm as her Rabbit filled it with power. Suddenly she was twice as fast, and flew down the steps three at a time, a blur of motion. It was a gamble, to expend the mystic energy now, when she knew she would need all she could get in the fight to come, but it would matter little if Esteban fell before she could even get there.

She would not tell Imicot she'd failed to save his son. She wouldn't let him leave this world in grief. It wasn't going to happen. She wouldn't allow it.

Her Avatar felt the barrier fall as she reached the ground floor, spotting Esteban as he carried a heavy wooden bar for the door from the room beyond the main chamber. Spotting her, he urged her to help with a wave, and she flew to him, grabbing up the other end of the beam.

"This will not buy us much time," he said as they headed for the doors.

As they reached them and hefted the bar, the doors blew wide, knocking them both across the room, the beam clattering as it fell away. Shaking her head, she looked up as a man with dirty blond hair and cruel brown eyes swaggered in, his cold weather furs melting away from him in a wave of magic, leaving him dressed in black.

"Imicot!" he bellowed. "I've come to claim what is rightfully mine!"

The Dark Blessed Deacon had arrived.

PUSHING HERSELF
to her feet, Ramora yanked her sword free, facing the Demon mage. Across from her, Esteban stood, hefting the poleaxe warily. Before them, Deacon sneered, looking them over with contempt.

"Who are you?" he asked Ramora.

She brandished the massive blade. Even if she could speak, she wouldn't have wasted words on the likes of him. He wasn't worth her spitting on.

"A Blessed of the High Gods," Esteban answered for her. "You will not survive this night."

"Is that so?" he asked with a chuckle before chanting softly, runic words flowing from his tongue with ease as he brought a dozen bolts formed of electricity into being and hurled them at the two who stood in his path.

Esteban ducked, throwing himself forward, but not fast enough to avoid being hit by one, dragging a yowl of pain from him. Ramora hoped her earrings worked and tried to weave her way through them, but felt three strike her, though it was only a minor nuisance.

"Hmm," Deacon snarled. "Seems you've been expecting me. No matter."

As Esteban pulled himself up, Ramora rushed Deacon, sword whipping out low and down, her grip ready to swing up and slice him in half. Deacon grinned at her and with a few runic words, hurled a lightning bolt at her weapon, blowing her back with it.

Turning to the Werecat, he called forth more bolts of lighting, raining them down on him, dragging forth screams of agony. Satisfied the Cat was out of the battle, he looked back to Ramora, only to be surprised when Esteban came swinging, his necklace protecting him from the worst of Deacon's attack.

"Dammit," the Demon sorcerer muttered, blasting the Cat with an air spell that sent him flying into the stone wall on the other side of the room. "Stay down when I put you down."

Grimacing, Esteban pulled himself back up. "Never."

Scowling, Deacon advanced into the room, throwing lightning at first Ramora, then Esteban, forcing them to dodge again and again, unable to gain ground. Reaching the center of the room, the sorcerer stood behind a couch, chanting out runes that blasted them both with air spells, throwing them back yet again.

"Now, Blessed," he muttered. "Show me what you've got."

Seeing she wasn't going to be able to get close, Ramora inscribed runes in the air, calling forth a fireball into her hand that flew at his head. He ducked away, smirking, not seeing it veer in its course as it came around and struck him in his back, pitching him forward over the couch.

"Nicely done," Esteban cried as he rushed at him, swinging his weapon high and chopping down.

Deacon rolled off the couch, the axe blade missing him by inches, and responded by hitting Esteban right in the face with a barrage of electrical arrows, throwing the Cat back with howls of agony. Rising, the mage sent a vortex of air magic at Ramora, hurling her up and across the room, into a wall.

As she flew, she drew runes on her blade, enchanting it with fire and then flicked it with her finger, sending a flurry of fireballs back at him, her Avatar singing praises at her ingenuity. She hit the wall hard and crumpled to the floor, but Deacon had been forced to dive away as well, leaving one of the couches a smoldering ruin.

Ignoring the ache in her body, Ramora forced herself up as Deacon rose, glaring at her. Behind him, Esteban towered up, axe swinging. Somehow, he avoided it, leaping forward, leaving the Cat nothing but air. As he rolled to his feet, Ramora met him with a swing of her sword, but too high, narrowly missing taking his head. Reaching out, he put a finger to her stomach, filling her with agony as he unleashed his Dark Gift.

She collapsed as Esteban came at him again, driving his poleaxe down, showering sparks from the floor as Deacon flitted to the side and threw lightening again, staggering the Cat. Past the haze of pain she felt, Ramora realized he'd enchanted himself the same way she had coming down the stairs, granting himself swiftness that was going to make it hard to land a blow.

Pushing herself to her knees, her Avatar gave her a woeful whistle. Already, she was low on mystic energy, meaning she might have one good spell left in her before she was going to have to rely solely on her blade. Choosing to save it, she gripped her sword and swung it up, missing him as he danced back.

Billows of air assaulted her in return, blows small, but precise, staggering her as she tried to rise. She had to find a way to get in close, but couldn't see it happening. A few feet from her, Esteban shook his head, trying to clear it.

"So, is the old man upstairs?" Deacon asked, waving at the staircase behind him. "Dead yet, or still alive? Not that it matters. He'll be dead soon enough, if he isn't already."

"Bastard," Esteban growled.

Deacon hit him with a flurry of invisible air missiles, knocking him back. "Mind your tongue, slave. You serve me now, and I'm not a forgiving owner."

Ramora grabbed a piece of the smoldering couch and hurled it, nearly catching the Dark Blessed off guard. Startled, he hesitated as she threw herself forward, sword aiming for him, a single thrust to finish him off.

"I think not," he said, switching to a force magic her earrings couldn't hold back the brunt of as his spell punched her back into the wall, knocking the wind from her.

"Really, neither of you are a challenge for me," he sighed.

"How about me?" Chara asked from behind him.

Deacon turned to find the young woman staring down the barrel of the mystic handgun as she pressed the firing rune, belching a fireball into existence. He didn't even have time to be shocked before it threw him across the room.

Lowering the weapon, she watched as the smoke cleared. Deacon still stood, to her surprise, the wind spell he'd used to guard against the blast dissipating as he glared at her. Snapping the mystic handgun back up, she prepared to fire again.

"That wasn't nice," he snarled, stalking towards her.

"Neither am I," Chara answered as she fired again, blasting him back, his air magic only barely defending him.

"Little bitch," he growled. "I'm going to enjoy taking you apart."

"Heard it before, wasn't impressed then," she snorted, pressing the firing rune again.

Nothing happened. Cursing, she realized the weapon was out of energy and tossed it aside, pulling the other she'd tucked into her pants at her back. Deacon was storming towards her as she snapped the weapon up, making him hesitate.

"That isn't going to be enough," he told her.

"Wanna find out?" she shot back.

He tried to figure out what he could do, what spell he could cast that would hit her before she shot him. What he didn't know was that the weapon she held was useless. She couldn't fire on him if she wanted to. Then again, as Ramora gained her feet behind him, she didn't need to.

He moved on her, his quickened step closing the gap fast. Chara stepped back as Ramora grabbed onto him, jerking him around to find the pommel of her sword striking him in the face. She wished she'd been able to get the blade around, but there'd been no time.

Staggering, Deacon cursed for a moment, then filled the air with force magic, hitting Ramora in the gut and pinning her to the wall. Glancing at his hand, he found blood, discovering her blow had broken his nose. Enraged, he sent more force magic at her, pummeling her without mercy.

Esteban circled, coming at him from the side, swinging his axe, only to find Deacon ready for him, a blast of invisible energy striking him and holding him in place as the Dark Blessed put a finger to his face and sent him into a world of suffering.

"I'm growing tired of this," he spat out.

He wasn't prepared for the arrow that hit him in the shoulder.

Spinning, he saw Chara draw the bowstring, a mystic arrow forming there half second before it struck him in the stomach. Too low, and too far to the side, it didn't injure him enough, but fueled his rage even more. Chanting out a force spell, he knocked the bow from her hands as behind him, Ramora sagged to the floor.

"How dare you," he growled.

"I'm a bitch that way," she snapped, yanking the sword free from where it hung at her hip.

Ramora felt herself hit the floor, knowing she was in bad shape. She couldn't feel her left leg at all, or see from her right eye. The world was a haze of pain as she planted a hand and tried to lever herself up. Through her swimming vision, she saw Esteban shaking his head as he struggled to right himself.

Deacon chanted out a spell, hurling a bolt of lightning at Chara, only to find it bouncing back at him, spinning him down to the floor, his chest smoldering. Stepping forward, she tried to hold the sword like she knew how to use it.

Gripping her own blade, Ramora rose, finding Deacon close enough to swing at. He spotted her before she could and rolled away, having to roll again as Esteban's weapon sought him. Chanting fast, he blew them both away, rising and stalking towards Chara. He caught her sword as she swung it and yanked it from her hand.

"You, I do not like," he snapped.

"Like I care," she spit out, kneeing him in the crotch.

Deacon gasped, sinking down as she pulled back and punched him, sending him to the floor. Groaning, he lashed out with a stammered spell, knocking the wind from her.