Rise (War Witch Book 1) (41 page)

As the day wore on, Leto and Esteban rode farther behind, talking and laughing, the Werecat grateful for a little male company. Chara was annoyed by it at first, then remembered that was actually the only thing he'd ever known. Traveling with two women must've been something of a culture shock all on its own.

"So, he's good-looking," she said to Ramora.

The warrior threw her a look that begged her not to go there.

"He is," she shrugged. "Not my type, mind you, but he seems to like you."

Irked by the young woman's overly observant nature, Ramora asked her where this was coming from.

Chara gave her a sarcastic look. "Come on, it's not like it's hard to see. He thinks you're good-looking. You obviously think he's good-looking. I don't see why you can't just relax and enjoy the attention a little."

Ramora shook her head, smiling as she shoved down the pain that shot through her heart.

"Maybe I just want you to be happy," Chara added. "It's possible I think you deserve that, you know?"

Rakiss hovered alongside Chara's horse, tweaking her aura carefully, insinuating thoughts. He owed Little Sister for breaking her heart, and while this wasn't the best way to repay it, he felt the need to try and do something.

Ramora reached over and patted Chara on the shoulder, offering a smile as she told her she was fine.

"So you say," the young woman muttered. "I worry about you, though. That you're going to get so focused on getting to Draco that you miss out on a chance just to be happy, even if it's for a little while."

Seeing the odd look on her friend’s face, Ramora asked what she meant.

Shaking her head, Chara turned somber. "Is it true, what Leto said, about most Blessed dying within a year?"

The question stole Ramora's good mood as well. Frowning, she nodded slowly, well aware of how often the agents of Heaven fell in battle before they even had a chance to do good in the world. It was a grim reality everyone who received the Mark had to contend with.

"When did Ramor decide to make you a Blessed?" Chara asked softly.

Suddenly understanding, Ramora glanced over at her friend, seeing the worry that circled her face. Hesitantly, she admitted it had been right before she'd returned. Until then, the War Wolf had hoped to transform her into an Ascended, but her need to close the door on her past had driven her to come back. To help her, he'd Marked her.

"So, less than a year," Chara murmured. "And chasing a man who has slain sixty-eight, that we know of."

All of them stronger than she was, Ramora thought. If Collette couldn't defeat him, then she really had no chance. Blessed grew more powerful over time, their Divine Gift becoming more potent and versatile as their connection with their patron deity strengthened. Despite having been raised by Ramor, her own Divine Gift was still new to her, and lacked the potency a Blessed of more experience would have.

She couldn't help but think of Kyan, an Elf her Father had Blessed long before he had found her. A living legend, his skill with his Divine Gift was the stuff of epic poems. She knew of his battle at Erniac Gorge, and how he'd used his Gift to predict the entire battle before it happened, allowing him to slay over one hundred Demon Seed by himself.

She could barely stay ahead of a single Orc, not to mention a sorcerer. She had a long ways to go before she was considered a great Blessed, provided she even lived long enough.

"I don't want you to die," Chara told her, voice quiet and heavy with fear.

Rakiss watched her aura spin, and cursed himself. He’d wanted the young woman to encourage Little Sister to pursue a new love interest, not become regretful over her own choices. Desperate to fix his error, he tried to find something, anything, he could use to tweak her back, but it was hopeless.

Chara's only thoughts were of how she'd denied Ramora the only love she may live long enough to know.

Reaching out, the warrior squeezed her friend’s shoulder again, and smiled, fingers dancing to tell her this is why she was okay that Chara was with Esteban. It was a relief to her, knowing her most treasured friend in the world was safe, well, and loved.

Nodding, Chara tried to smile. Rakiss breathed a sigh of relief as her aura cleared, her regret fading, but not vanishing completely. That had nearly been a disaster. Grudgingly, he admitted it might be best not to tinker with her emotions for a while.

"Just promise me you won't do anything reckless, okay?" the young woman asked.

Ramora gave her a salute as she made an overly serious face.

Grinning at her silly expression, Chara felt slightly better. Still, the enormity of what her friend faced had settled into her mind, sending her thoughts twirling as to how she could help.

It's just like a game of Masters, she told herself. It's exactly like that.

As evening settled, the small band made camp for the night, Chara ranging out with her bow to bring back several rabbits for dinner. Ramora ignored the way her Avatar wailed a dirge about how it was always rabbit for dinner.

With Esteban cooking, she'd settled back, watching as Leto regaled her friends with tales of his exploits as a four-year veteran of the war against the Demon Gods. She had to admit, he did have the kindest eyes.

Her little Rabbit sang a very dirty ditty to her. She asked it to stop. It hummed out a refusal. She pointed out she had more important things to deal with.

Than living?
The question was whistled out in as cute a fashion as possible.

She chastised it for teaming up with Chara against her. The Bunny hopped around, twittering about how she had no one to blame but herself for not being in the young woman's arms. Annoyed, she told it to hush, but it refused, singing at her about the woes of a life not lived to the fullest.

Staring into the fire, Ramora reminded it of Collette, and her family. Their spirits deserved justice, and to be avenged. Saddened by her mood, the little Rabbit cuddled her soul close and wove a melody about how she would see them again one day, and when they asked if she'd been happy, if she'd known love, what would she say?

Castigated by that, Ramora simply filled her heart with love for her constant companion, who'd sung her to sleep each night as a child, and promised to think of it. Her Avatar beamed, chiming that it was only asking for that.

Looking over the fire at her friends, she saw Leto set five gold coins down next to the small Masters board Imicot had given Chara as the young woman smirked. Slowly, it dawned on her what she'd just seen and she sat upright, staring in horror.

Chara cracked her knuckles. "So, this is the part where you show me what second place in the Tysol Championship can do, right?"

"Indeed, my young friend, it is," Leto grinned.

Ramora sagged, looking to Esteban in dismayed outrage. The big Cat just shrugged, giving her a pathetic look. As usual, Chara had him wound around her little finger, rendering the Werejaguar helpless.

Twenty minutes later, Leto was desperately seeking some way he could win. Ramora sighed heavily, giving Chara a disapproving glare. She simply smirked.

"There's got to be something," the Blessed of Grannax muttered.

Chara gave him an innocent smile. "I'm sure there is, and if anyone can find it, it's you. Though, I'm wondering now, if you think that's worth double or nothing?"

Ramora threw a stick at her. Chara glared back.

"I think I'm being hustled," Leto said after a moment, staring at Chara over the board.

"What's hustling?" she asked with as much sugar in her voice as possible.

Leto narrowed his gaze. "You know just what it is, and I'm gravely disappointed, Lady Chara."

Dropping her innocent act, Chara groaned. "Fine. Okay. I'm sorry. I'm hustling you."

"I suspected as much," Leto nodded. "Really, Lady Chara. Waiting until you have your opponent at your mercy is not the time to suggest double or nothing. That would've been five rounds ago, when it still appeared I could win."

Ramora gaped.

"Oh," Chara intoned, surprised. It faded into a devilish grin quickly. "Hit them when they still think they have the upper hand. I bet I could maneuver them into thinking they've got the win in the bag by sacrificing a couple of Masters."

"Reset the board," Leto told her. "Let's test your theory. So far, you can manage to hold back, but to be a real master hustler, you need to look like you can lose, and frankly, you're far too domineering right now."

Ramora shook her head in dismay.

"I've gotten used to just overpowering my opponents," Chara nodded. "But usually I only play these two, so that's not much of a challenge."

Leto nodded as she rearranged the pieces. "Plus, they already know you're good. The art of the hustle is making people think you aren't good, then surprising them with a win. It's best if you can make it look like luck, though, so others will try their hand."

Horrified, Ramora shot to her feet, waving her hands at the Blessed of Grannax to stop.

Leto and Chara stared at her in confusion. Esteban just sighed and tended the rabbits over the spit.

"What is it?" Leto asked her.

Ramora signed at Chara quickly.

"She says you can't be teaching me this, on account of you’re a Blessed of Grannax," she said, her voice heavy with resentment.

Leto chuckled. "I wasn't always, you know. There was a time, I was quite the hustler myself. My family was very poor, and often, the money I won was the only way we could all eat."

Ramora hesitated a moment then told Chara that while that may have been true for him, it wasn't the case for Chara.

Leto shrugged a little. "You never know where life is going to take you. She has a skill, and someday, it may be all that stands between her and starvation. It wouldn't be honorable of me to not help her develop such a potentially life-saving ability, now would it?"

The Blessed of Ramor began to argue that and then stood, having to think it through. Leto quirked an eyebrow as her face went through several expressions of confusion, then settled on angry when she realized he'd bamboozled her. Chara just snickered.

Looking to Esteban for help, Ramora found the big Cat shaking his head. "Don't bring me into this. She's going to figure it out with or without his help, and you know that already, my friend."

Collapsing under the weight of defeat, Ramora waved them on, but only after shaking a finger at Leto to let him know he was a very bad Blessed of the Emperor of Heaven.

Flopping down, she watched as Chara learned how to trick people out of their money. It annoyed her to no end, as it wasn't an honorable thing to do, though she had to admit Esteban was right. Sooner or later, the clever young woman would figure it out on her own. Leto wasn't doing anything but speeding up the inevitable.

Not to mention, he was damn sexy when he was being devious.

Ramora reminded herself that her Rabbit was a bad influence.

It whistled that it was a sexy influence.

She gave up.

THE CITY OF LANSING
had stood since the early days of the Second Age, and was once known as the second capitol of the Golden Empire. During the Great Demon War, it'd been a bastion of light, repelling every attempt to breech its walls. Many had come seeking shelter within the city, safe from the rampaging hordes of Demon Seed.

Even after the end of the war, when Cynthanis had vanished, the ruling family of Lansing had never sought to try and take up Glyphnok, feeling they were unworthy to follow in the footsteps of the Immortal Emperor. Instead, they chose to rule over their corner of the Middle World with a just hand.

Until the Mage Wars broke out, when the sorceress Queen Shiza Tertis had traded her soul to the Demon Gods for power, and eternal youth. Much of the city had been destroyed during her mad rampage, the newly-risen zombie queen devouring her own people in an attempt to make herself look human again.

Put down by her own son, the Tertis family, who'd ruled Lansing since its first days, abdicated the throne, leaving it to more worthy souls in the Gahlanor family. The reconstruction had taken many years before the Mage Wars ravaged the land, Lansing being seen as weak and ripe for spoils. Worse, they'd given shelter to the Spellweavers, bringing the wrath of the Masters of Sorcery down on them.

When at last the war had died down, the valiant Gahlanor family had been brutally executed, and one sorcerer after another had briefly sat upon the throne, each assassinated by a rival in an attempt to lay claim to the massive city. Dark days followed as many fled, seeking peace elsewhere.

By the dawn of the Third Age, the Masters of Sorcery had abandoned the city as it teetered on complete collapse, each would-be king and queen incurring the wrath of nearby nations. A brief war with Wylcer to the west had been seen as the final nail in the coffin of the once glorious city, the powerful navy of the mighty nation leaving Lansing virtually defenseless.

With much of the city a sprawling ghetto, only those who were too afraid, old, ill, or infirm to leave had remained. With the departure of the sorcerers, even they looked about the desiccated city and wondered if they'd find better lives elsewhere.