Rise (War Witch Book 1) (56 page)

Unsure if she should trust the woman, Chara still sat, thinking that perhaps she should've let Esteban come with her after all. He hadn't been terribly keen on the idea of her visiting the Spellweaver alone, but she had insisted, needing him to understand she could do things without him constantly hovering over her.

Guido rolled up the stairs, clattered in triumph, she thought, and scooted around the room to fall on an old pillow in the corner. Once again, Chara remembered her childhood desire to see the world, and couldn't help but think it had taken a most bizarre turn somewhere along the way.

The Half Elf returned shortly with a pot of tea and two cups, sitting them down on the low table in front of the couch, before nodding across the spacious room. "That's my bed over there, by the window, in case you change your mind."

"Oh, for the love of all the Gods, will you stop it?" Chara snapped. "How many times do I have to say no before you get it? Seriously, what's your problem?"

Rayne smirked at her. "I'm a dark-skinned Half Elf in the northeast, a Spellweaver in a city with a history in sorcery, a woman, and a Blessed. What's not my problem?"

Chara frowned. "I can't really say anything about most of that, but I know a good number of Blessed, and none of them act like you."

"Not in front of you, anyway," Rayne snickered.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Chara growled, not liking what she was implying.

Rayne waved it off. "You'll understand one day, kiddo, when you're all grown up into a Blessed yourself."

Scowling, Chara snapped out, "People do not grow up into Blessed."

"Really?" the Half Elf asked in amazement. "Then where do they all keep coming from?"

Feeling her temper slipping, Chara clenched her fists, trying to stay calm. "Can we just settle on what I owe you so I can go?"

Nodding, Rayne eased down in a chair across from her. She pulled her goggles off and set them next to the tea set, her fingerless gloves joining them a moment later. Running a hand through her hair, ruffling it out to shake off the effects of having it up all day, the Spellweaver looked up at her, topaz eyes oddly calm and settled as she said, "I don't want your money."

"I already told you,” Chara growled. "I'm not sleeping with you."

Rayne gave a soft chuckle. "I know. I don't want that, either."

Startled by the sudden change in her demeanor, Chara tensed. "So, what do you want?"

The Half Elf stared at her for a minute, her eyes turning soft and kind. "It's true what I said, you know. I've got plenty of problems. My mom, she was from Isnar, and my dad, well, I don't know where he was from. I never met him. Mom always said he was a soldier out of one of the Elven Royal Houses, but who knows. I guess it doesn't matter, even, but it's strange, not knowing where you come from."

Chara felt her tension ease slightly while Rayne poured them both a cup of tea as she continued talking. "I figured out when I was young what it meant to be a Half Elf. How you aren't really welcome in either the human world, or the Elven. Mind you, humans are better about ignoring it, but the Elves, well, they don't care for half breeds much. I guess they see their special blood being diluted and get all pissy about it or something."

"Izra is an Elf," Chara said without thinking.

Rayne nodded slowly. "She is, yeah, but she's a Deep Elf. They live below ground, you know, and have a different way of looking at the world. It's hard to explain, partly because I don't really understand it myself, but the way their society functions puts me in a position where I'd be looked on with pity, not disgust. Not that Izra does. She's Blessed, and that's a whole different thing in and of itself. Not to mention, she's an orphan, so I think she sees us as more alike than different."

Taking a sip, Rayne's eyes grew sad. "The point is, I've never fit in. My mixed heritage is only half of why. Let me ask you something. Do you know the real reason sorcerers hate Spellweavers?"

Feeling uncomfortable, Chara shrugged a little. "I don't guess I do."

"We're born with our Avatars awake. From our first breath, we're never alone, the song of the spirit in our soul singing to us. Sorcerers have to force their Avatar awake. They resented us, back when, because we were special, gifted. Blessed by Isel, I suppose." Rayne paused, looking down into her cup. "I was weaving spells before I could even walk."

Stunned, Chara struggled for words. "That's amazing."

A bitter smile found the other woman’s face. "Yeah. Amazing. Being a lavender-haired kid with pointy ears who could make her toys float in a city full of people who were nothing like me. Amazing is one word for it."

"Oh," Chara whispered, suddenly understanding.

"I was an outcast before I even knew what that was," she told her. "My mom taught me how to hide my magic, but my Avatar is a Horse, and it doesn't want to be contained. It wants to run free. It was hard, but I tried anyway. I even got used to the mean little nicknames the other kids gave me, without ever once using the abilities I had to defend myself, not even when they pushed me down, beat me up, or worse."

"Rayne," Chara said slowly.

"When I was old enough, I left Isnar. Not because it was a bad place. It wasn't. The kids were mean to me, sure, but that's just how a lot of kids are. It's how they learn, I guess you could say. The rest of the people, they were nice enough, but still, I could see the way they looked at me. With pity. Like I was a freak. So, I left, my Horse wanting to run. I traveled the world twice over before stopping here. You know why I did?"

Chara shook her head.

"It's a place where everyone is free," Rayne told her. "I mean, I still get weird looks from people, because of my skin, or my hair, or my ears. In general though, nobody cares. Go six blocks east of here, and you'll find a cafe with a Werebear for a cook. Weird is subjective in Lansing. It was nice, to feel like I fit in, in some way. So I stayed, and opened this shop, posing as a sorcerer, so nobody would know what I really was, because even here, there are still some things you can't be."

Looking up, the Half Elf smiled softly. "What I'm trying to say, Chara, is that I've spent so much of my life as the outsider, I've gotten used to it. People, they scare me. I don't know how they're going to react. Even when Agrid Blessed me, I stayed here, hiding in my shop, the eccentric sorcerer who nobody really wanted to get close to. I can't fight the Demon Seed like other Blessed do, and I'm too afraid of putting my real self out there to do anything else but sit here, trading goods to the real heroes, so they have a chance of coming home again."

She shook her head slowly, and took a deep breath that Chara noted held a heaviness to it. "I said I don't want your money, and I don't. I never ask anyone to pay for anything, because I only deal with those who are going to fight the Demon Seed. That's what you wanted those weapons recharged for, so you can go and stand by your friend’s side, and fight with her. I could see it in your aura when I used my Divine Gift on you. You're going to be a hero, and that's why I did it. So, just do that, for me, okay? Be a hero. Save the people I can't. That's my price, and my payment."

Chara's eyes fell, staring into her untouched tea. "Why are you telling me all this?"

"Because, I want you to know, I'm your friend," Rayne replied. "Sure, I may be a bit odd, and difficult to like at times, but I believe in you, and I want to be someone you can trust. So, I'm letting you meet the real me. There will come a day when you'll need me, so know I'm here."

"You say that like you know it for a fact," the other woman said softly.

"I told you, I know many things," the Spellweaver answered. "I know one more thing, as well. You can never let a sorcerer look at the lattice of enchantments in those weapons. Ever. Above all else, you have to believe me when I say that, Chara. For every good sorcerer out there, there's a dozen bad ones, who won't hesitate to use what they could learn from those for the wrong reasons. There's too many unscrupulous mages out there who would try and mass produce them, changing the face of this world before it's ready. You cannot, now or ever, put them in anyone's hands but mine, do you understand?"

"What if I need them charged and I'm halfway around the world?"

Rayne grinned, a touch of the maniacal flickering across her face as she dug in her pocket and pulled out a small hoop earring set with an emerald stone that slid freely on the silver metal. "Use this. Just hold it, and think of me. I'll come to you."

"How?" Chara asked as she accepted it, admiring the simple beauty of it.

Rayne's smile softened. "I'm a Spellweaver. Teleportation is a simple matter for me. I'll be there before you know it."

Nodding, Chara affixed the earring, saying, "I can't thank you enough, not just for the weapons, but for showing me this side of yourself. I feel honored."

Rayne shook her head. "No, I'm the one who should be. I knew from the start that you would accept me. It just took me a while to let down my guard. You have a special ability to see people the way they are, rather than how you want them to be."

Chara laughed at that. "There's nothing special about that. It's just common courtesy."

"Take it from me, my friend, that kind of courtesy is most uncommon," the other woman said.

Nodding, Chara spent the rest of the day with Rayne, sitting and talking, getting to know the woman for the first time, again. She couldn't explain it at the time, and wouldn't be able to for many years to come, but it made her feel special, and by the time she left the shop, she believed she truly had made a friend.

Rayne stood in the doorway, watching her go, smiling after her until she was out of sight. Once she was, she slipped back in, her expression turning sad.

"Be strong, Chara," she whispered to the gloom. "You will see horrors you've never imagined, very soon."

RAMORA WOKE WITH A START,
the nightmare fading quickly in the early morning sun streaming through the window. Trying to still her trembling body, she slowed her breathing, steadying herself. It was always the same, the nightmare. The slaughter of her family, the massacre of her home, the brutal execution of everyone she had ever known. As vivid as if it were happening for the first time, the dream plagued her regularly.

It had gone away when Chara had held her during those months they traveled north, only to return on the way back, as the young woman held someone else. Pushing her hair out of her face, Ramora swung her feet out of the bed, letting the smooth wood floor, reality, push the last vestiges of the dream away.

Glancing around, her eye landed on a small calendar hung on the wall by the proprietor, and noted the date with a fair amount of mixed feelings. Tomorrow was her birthday. Of course the dreams were getting more frequent. They always did.

It would be eleven years now, she thought, her hand unconsciously going to the scars that marred her chest. Eleven years since that day, the last birthday she'd ever known with her family. Closing her eyes, she calmed herself, putting the pain away. Now wasn't the time.

Over the last five days since Chara had given them some time off, the young woman had moved their exercises outside, into the castle's courtyard, the training room no longer suitable in her mind. She'd also driven them even harder, coordinating with Rills to make their practice as grueling as possible.

That's it
, she told herself.
Focus on that. Let that be the center of your thoughts, not the other.
Opening her eyes, she found the morning sun to feel brighter and smiled softly. Time to get to work.

After washing up, she brushed out her unruly mane, tied it back, and shrugged on her typical black leather pants, boots, and a red silk camisole Chara had bought her to make up for arguing with her over the money earlier. Pausing in front of the mirror, she admitted it looked good on her, and smiled as she thought of her young friend.

The heavy cotton shirt she usually wore under her armor was at the castle, along with the armor itself and her sword. It was odd leaving them there, but she'd come to feel awkward wearing them on the way back to the inn, the long walks with Leto growing ever more friendly, comfortable, and flirty. It wasn't often she found she wanted to feel feminine, and she had to admit, she liked it, at least when he was around.

It wasn't love, she knew that much, but it was more than just friendship. What that made it, she wasn't sure. Her Rabbit called it trust, and that was a good word for it. She trusted him, found him attractive, and was having a harder time denying that she wanted to do more than just take long walks with him.

Easy now
, she chided herself.
Let's not get ourselves into a mess.
The last thing either of them needed was emotional entanglements. That was what really held her back. She was afraid of getting her heart too involved, and his as well. After how things had gone with Chara, it was a pool she wasn't eager to jump back into.

At least with Izra, she knew it would remain purely physical, the awkward and treacherous aspects of mortal relationships kept out of it completely. Elves were good at separating love from sex, and she admitted, she kind of wanted that, especially after the sultry Deep Elf had snuck a kiss from her a few days ago.

Grinning, she remembered it. They'd been taking a lunch break from their training, Ramora heading for the bathroom, Izra joining her. She hadn't though anything of it, even with Bit cracking jokes about how women ran in packs. Before they'd left the small, cozy washroom, the Blessed of Hepheron had slid in, giving her a warm, long kiss.

Surprised, Ramora hadn't rejected it, savoring the taste of her lips and the feel of her pressed close. When it had ended, the Elf had admitted she wanted to do at least that, even if it was just once. The warrior had watched her head back out to the hall, thinking she could've done a lot more if she'd wanted, then was touched by the sweetness of it.

Sometimes, it was the little things that meant the most.