Rise (War Witch Book 1) (76 page)

Chara sat for some time, thinking about that. She stared into the blackish-amber depths of the stout, really asking herself what she wanted. Methodically, logically, she removed all emotion from that, dismissing Ramora and Esteban, focusing solely on the desire that burned deep inside her in the aftermath of the citadel attack. In the end, the answer was clear, once she shut everything else out.

"I want to kill every Demon-loving piece of shit out there."

The Ogre howled with laughter, thumping the bottle on the table merrily. "Well, then, my brave little mouse, that's exactly what you should do! Be damned with boyfriends, and Blessed alike! Take up arms, my girl, and wage war on them until the day you drop! Make them howl in fear at your name! Do it, and do it with pride, then drink heartily, fuck as you please, and to the lowest Hells with anyone who tells you that you cannot, for you're a warrior to the very core of your soul!"

Chara laughed at that, downing the entire glass of stout in a single go, and was pleased when she didn't cough even a little, though she did wince at the fire. "Even if I have to stand alone?"

"Even if you have to stand alone," the Ogre grinned. "At least you will be standing, on your terms, the way you see fit!"

"Yeah," she nodded. "That's just what I'm going to do. They can be with me on it, or they can fuck off!"

"That's my little mouse," he laughed.

Chara stood, nodding to herself. "I know exactly what I need to do."

"Good," he told her. "Go forth, and do it!"

"I'm going to," she shouted, then paused. "Oh, hey, your coat. You probably want it back."

He waved her off. "Return it to the Halward Inn after the rain stops. Tell them it's for the Ogre. They'll get it to me."

"You sure?" she asked.

He nodded emphatically, then dug a handful of gold coins from his pocket and rolled them to her. "Though, I would suggest you head down the street, and get some dry clothes, before you do catch your death, little mouse."

"I can't take your money," she insisted.

"Of course you can," he chuckled. "I'm giving it, aren't I? Off you go, brave little mouse. To war!"

She smiled brightly. "Thanks. For everything. Umm..."

"Mastiff," he told her. "Mastiff Bloodarm."

She nodded, holding out her hand. "Thank you, Mastiff."

"It was my honor, Chara," he said, shaking her hand with a firm, yet oddly gentle touch.

He watched her walk out, head up, and smiled. Such a brave little mouse indeed. He wished her well. Something told him, she was going to need it. The same thing that told him their meeting wasn't a coincidence, something that was confirmed a moment later when a Troll eased into the seat Chara had vacated.

"Zoe," Mastiff said, looking over at the tall, pale blue woman. "So, what was that all about?"

"What was what about?" she asked with a grin.

Mastiff settled back in his seat, frowning. So, it was to be the game, was it. He hated the game more than a little. Always, it was the game with Zoe, though.

"The brave little mouse," he said, waving at the door. "What's going on with her?"

"How should I know?" Zoe asked, her ice green eyes sparkling. "You're the one who talked to her. Not me."

The Warmaster sighed, rubbing his eyes as the Troll waved the waitress over and ordered a shrimp platter. The only thing he hated more than her little word games was seafood. He decided to have another drink of stout.

"I see you've gotten a haircut," he commented as the waitress left, waving the bottle at the short, spiky style she wore her white-blonde hair in. "What brought this on?"

"Time for a change," she shrugged. "Women do that, you know."

"I suppose," he nodded.

"You've gotten more gray," she said, holding out the glass Chara had left.

"Old men do that," he smiled, pouring it full.

"I suppose," she nodded.

They sat quietly until the waitress returned with the shrimp platter, setting it between them. Mastiff curled his lip at it as Zoe grabbed a couple and stuffed them in her mouth. He frowned a bit at that. Woman always ate like she was on the brink of starvation.

"So," he said at last. "What's the deal with the brave little mouse?"

"What makes you think I know anything about that?" she asked around a mouthful.

"Let's see," he mused. "You invite me to lunch in Lansing, having me arrive four days after the most glorious battle this city has seen in generations, arrange for me to meet you at this charming place that I will refer to politely as rustic, insist I not go inside until you arrive, which left me hanging around in a downpour, while you were thirty minutes late, putting me right in her path."

Zoe chewed slowly for a minute, then smiled. "You make it all sound so sordid, Tiffy."

"Don't call me that," he groaned.

"It's cute, like you," she replied, scooping up another handful of shrimp. "Maybe it was just a coincidence that you ran into her."

"I stopped believing in coincidence the day I met you," he told her with a snort. "Must we play this game?"

She shrugged. "We must. Sorry, Tiffy. Just the way things work."

He harrumphed at that. "Very well, then, my overly buxom annoyance, why did you set all this in motion, if not to have me meet her?"

"I'm not overly buxom," Zoe chastised him. "I'm perfectly proportionate for my height."

"Which is why you flaunt it so," he said, looking over the vest she wore unlaced halfway down.

"I am confident in my sexuality," she retorted with a trace of indigence.

Mastiff rubbed his temple, not wanting to be lured into another conversation about her breasts, like last time. It only left him frustrated after she ditched him to chase down a woman. Not that he overly wanted to go there, but still, it wasn't like she was unattractive. For someone who wasn't an Ogre.

"Tell me about the mouse," he begged.

Zoe smirked at him as she stuffed her face with shrimp. "Eat something."

"I'm allergic to seafood," he grumbled. "You know that. I break out in hives, which don't look very good on me with my complexion."

Zoe snorted laughter, then choked on a shrimp for a second, before getting control of herself. "Sorry. That was funny."

"You vex me greatly, woman," he groused.

Zoe grinned. "Your little mouse is important."

"Of course," he muttered. "Everyone you have me run into accidentally seems to be. The question is why?"

She nodded as she ate some more shrimp, telling him around it, "That's the question, isn’t it? Let me give you a hint. My Goddess wanted to see if you could set her on the right path."

"Don't talk with your mouth full," he chided. "It's gross."

"I'm hungry," she told him. "Sue me."

Mastiff gave her an annoyed smile. "So, have I set her on the right path?"

Zoe shrugged. "Dunno. We'll see, I suppose."

"And when would that be?"

"The next time you see her," the Troll replied. "You'll either be her mentor, or her executioner."

Mastiff frowned. "I don't think I like the sound of that. She's just a girl."

Zoe stopped eating, giving him a dark look. "She's had her destiny changed, Mastiff. She's in flux. She can either be a force for good, or evil. We're waiting to see which it will be."

"Her destiny changed?" he asked.

"She was meant to marry a fat, stuttering butcher and have his littler of eight," Zoe told him.

Mastiff scowled deeply. "An unfit fate for one with the fire she possesses."

Zoe snorted. "That's the problem with you, Tiffy. You and all Ogres, really. You can't see the bigger picture."

"I cannot imagine how chaining anyone to a life they obviously didn't want can be good for anything," the Ogre rumbled.

The Troll's eyes darkened as she dropped her shrimp back on the plate, brushing her hands off on her slacks. "Fine. You want to know. I'll tell you. Six generations removed, down her bloodline, would've seen the birth of Jarisa of Rheumer, a Spellweaver and Blessed of Isel, who would overthrow the Master of Sorcery, liberate Qur, and return her Tradition to the rightful place of honor and glory, all while exposing the sorcerers for the frauds they are."

"One life," he argued.

"Nine generations removed," Zoe snapped. "Down her bloodline, would've seen the birth of Arnell Odeva, Blessed of Ramor, General of Oboro, who would lead the armies that knocked down the walls of Pirnot, driving the Demon Seed from their stronghold."

Mastiff glared off at nothing.

"Not to mention the hundreds, thousands, of souls born into this world, down her line, that will not ever exist now," Zoe told him, her tone sharp and angry. "So, yes, Tiffy, she would've been unhappy, for the good of the world as a whole. Are you content to sacrifice all of that, and more, so one girl can play at living her dreams?"

"I would have every soul chose their own destiny," Mastiff replied.

"Yeah, well, that's not how the world works, sweetness," the Troll growled. "The Demon Gods are waging a war, while the High Gods play a match of Masters. They plot and plan, generations in advance, to create heroes that will turn this world into a better place. Sometimes, people have to make sacrifices for that to happen. That's just how it works."

"Then they can still plan their noble warriors, just by some other line," he snorted.

"You still aren't getting it," Zoe snapped. "Her bloodline, that was what mattered. Now it's all gone to ruin. They must start from scratch, bringing the right people together, again and again, to bring about the right people."

The Ogre waved it all away. "Then they must do so. What of it? The end result is the same."

"Maybe," his companion said. "Maybe not. You can't see the big picture, because you're near sighted. Chara's fate is in flux, and every day she walks around, she sets the fates of everyone she meets into a flux. She's a big-ass stone dropped into a pond, creating ripples everywhere she goes. The whole of the Middle World is now in chaos, every future unset. We don't know what will happen, and cannot know, until her path is set."

"Metaphysical clap trap," Mastiff muttered.

"I wish," Zoe shrugged, grabbing the shrimp up again. "That's how it works, though. Nothing is ever set in stone. Alter one thing, and watch it all fall down. Even Terris' Ascended can't be certain what will happen right now.

"Because she didn't become the brood mare to a butcher’s son?" Mastiff snorted.

"Exactly," she nodded. "That didn't happen. Someone altered the course of her life."

Mastiff scowled. "You mean him, don't you?"

"Rakiss, yes," she nodded. "He's found another."

"Bloody Hells," Mastiff groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. "That damn fool. No mortal can survive what he puts them through! Certainly not a girl of her years. We should interfere this time, Zoe, stop it before it gets as bad as those other three."

She shrugged and resumed eating. "Can't. All we can do is watch, and deal with the mess when it comes about."

"Why?" he snapped. "Why must I sit and watch this girl be led down the path of damnation? What has she done to deserve that?"

Zoe paused, smiling at him. "You like her."

The Warmaster crossed his arms, scowling. "She has fire in her. I could do much with a pupil such as her."

"Let's hope you get to," the Troll told him. "But we also have to prepare for the possibility that she will fall. Already, we've gotten signs one of the Demon Gods has noticed her."

Mastiff stared in shock. "Which one?"

"Balmor," she said softly.

"By the might of Heaven," he growled, standing and gathering his hat.

"Sit down," Zoe snarled.

Mastiff's butt hit the chair without a thought, followed instantly by a surly look. "I hate that you can do that."

"It's how I keep you from doing something stupid," she replied. "Like running off and warning her."

"This isn't right, and you know it, Zoe," he barked.

She nodded. "You are right. It isn't. Nothing about it's fair. She's so young, with such potential. It's a shame we're going to have to kill her. That is, though, what we do. Clean up the mistakes."

"I rue the day I met you and learned the Gods capable of fault," he grumbled.

"I know," she said, giving him a sad smile. "I'm sorry for that, too. I needed you, though. You and the other one."

Mastiff grimaced at mention of him. "Where is he, anyway?"

"Tending other matters," she shrugged.

"What would you have me do then?" he asked.

"Go to Wylcer, take a room at the Hotnar Inn, and wait till you hear from me again," she said.

Mastiff scowled at her. "That's it?"

"That's it," she nodded. "It may be a while, though, so you'll want to pay by the month."

The Warmaster sighed heavily. "What if that damned fool succeeds?"

"The girl will become a weapon like no other," Zoe replied. "But from what I saw of her aura, I wouldn't get your hopes up. I see why you like her, but don't let that stay your hand should the need to kill her arrive."

"I never do," he replied as he stood, dropping his hat on his head.

"Mastiff," she said before he could leave. "Thank you."

He nodded slowly. "Take care of yourself, Zoe."

She nodded in return and watched him go before leaning back, her fingers playing over the leaping Jaguar mark on the palm of her left hand. She certainly hoped Zastra knew what she was doing. She had a feeling her old friend Mastiff would have a hard time taking the girl’s life before she could become a Dark Blessed.

If she lived that long.