Sorceress Rising (A Gargoyle and Sorceress Tale Book 2) (3 page)

By the time
Lillian came pelting down the trail, Gregory was already leaning nonchalantly
against the fence and both equines were safely on the other side, grazing like
they’d been doing so all along. She skidded to a halt beside him, sweating and
out of breath. He merely tilted his head in her direction in acknowledgement
and waited patiently while she leaned over, held her side, and wheezed like
she’d never run in her life.

When he stepped
forward and placed an arm around her shoulders and urged her to lean against
the fence next to him, she complied without hesitation and rested her hip
against a post. “What’s wrong with me? I’m as weak as a kitten.”

“You still
haven't completely recovered. Your hamadryad healed you, but now you must
rebuild your strength and endurance. You shouldn’t have run so far.”

She jerked her
head up and glared at him. “And whose fault is that? I wouldn’t have had to run
if you hadn’t taken off. I still can’t believe you just ran off,” she growled
in a remarkably good imitation of him. “Didn’t you hear what Gran said about
all the authorities lurking behind every bush? Or did you forget the meaning of
‘stop’ while you slept for three months? Because I’d be happy to give you a
little reminder.”

“I heard what
Vivian said about these new human authorities. I simply am not concerned by
them. Humans have no power to threaten, hold, or enslave me.”

“But they can
shoot your half-naked ass.”

Gregory
swallowed a growl, not wanting to fight with Lillian about so trivial a concern
as humans, not when the Lady of Battles might already be moving an invading
army into position at this very moment.

Lillian’s
seemingly peevish demeanor was nothing more than a disguise, one he’d seen many
times since he’d first come to this world. He knew her outward crustiness had
more to do with worry than annoyance at having to run after him. Besides, he
already had a good method for handling Lillian’s fear.

Inching closer,
he dipped his muzzle and licked her from chin to hairline. She responded with
the usual squawk as she flailed at his muzzle with the flat of her hand. Her
contact wasn’t much more than a pat, so he took advantage of her hesitancy to
do him harm by bumping her hands away with his muzzle and landing another sloppy
kiss across her face, and then a third along her neck.

He nuzzled aside
the neckline of her top and her giggles choked off on a gasp. Her fingers dug
into his scalp as she grabbed fistfuls of his mane and nearly jerked it out by
the roots.

“What do you
think you’re doing?”

“Attitude
adjustment.” Gregory chuckled at her affronted look. “You were in need of a
distraction. You were allowing your fear to affect your judgment.”

“Nice attempt at
modern phrases.” One delicate eyebrow shot up at his words. “Sadly, it falls
flat when your reasoning is positively medieval.”

Gregory’s ears
perked as hope flashed through his being. “Then I’ll stop trying to adapt to
this modern world. We’ll both be happier.”

“You say and do
the oddest things.” She shook her head at him. “Let’s leave this entire episode
as a species barrier incident, shall we?”

“As you wish,
beloved.” With the danger of Lillian learning his true intent at seeking out
the two equines bypassed, he shook the residual tension out of his wings.

Tilting her head
back, her eyes flicked over his features in a way he knew was trouble. She
crossed her arms over her breasts and said, “Don’t ‘beloved’ me. You’re hiding
something. What did you say to the unicorn and the pooka you didn’t want me to
overhear?”

He winced
inwardly at her astute observation. “I wish for them to find and bring
Whitethorn and Greenborrow to me.” Which was the truth, Gregory reasoned with
himself. He’d planned to ask them to do that very thing after he’d talked of
Lillian’s parents. “We must discuss battle strategy. You’re more than welcome
to join the meeting, but I know both you and Gran would likely appreciate the
time to catch up with each other.”

His ears pricked
up and his wings relaxed marginally—his words sounded plausible, she shouldn’t
take exception to them. As if on cue, the unicorn and the pooka lifted their
heads from grazing and pointed their ears in Gregory’s direction. With a snort
and a bob of his head, the unicorn was the first to jump the fence and take off
down the trail, the pooka a dark shadow a short distance behind.

Gentle fingers
curled around his muzzle and tilted it until she was looking directly into his
eyes—hers were full of sorrow. “Have I taught my Gargoyle Protector to lie? Is
that the gift I have given him?” Sadness echoed in her voice even as the words
were carried away on the afternoon breeze.

“Lillian.”

She slid one
finger against his lips. “Don’t. Not if it’s another lie. In the not so distant
past, we both concealed truths with the intention of protecting the other. As I
recall, it didn’t work out so well for us.” Lillian stepped up to him,
surprising him with a fierce embrace, her arms squeezing him with all the
strength she possessed. “I will never knowingly lie to you again.”

Nothing and no
one possessed the power to unman him as devastatingly as his Sorceress. He
bowed his muzzle over Lillian’s head, nuzzling her hair as his arms and wings
encircled her smaller form. “Forgive me. Even if I learn nothing in this life,
I will learn this lesson well. You have my word, I will not lie to you again.”
He dragged in a deep breath, savoring her calming scent.

Lillian held her
silence as she petted his back in long soothing strokes.

To his shame,
his wings trembled at her gentle touch, but something in his spirit eased and
the truth flowed from him freely. “I asked the unicorn and the pooka to tell me
what they had learned about your birth parents. Both equines have a unique
ability to read the heart of a person—to see one’s hidden personality traits,
their loves, hates, their deepest desires—what lengths they will stoop to in
order to complete a mission. Dark things no child should have to learn about a
parent, beloved or not.”

Lillian gave a
bitter sounding laugh. “Gregory, there is nothing the pooka and the unicorn can
tell me that will be worse than what I already imagine. At most, whatever they
say will only confirm what I suspect.” She patted his shoulder in a
companionable way before continuing, “Later, together, we’ll listen to what the
unicorn and pooka have to say about my parents.”

“Your words hold
wisdom.” He gave her hand where it rested on his shoulder an affectionate lick.

She sighed
predictably at the dampness covering the back of her hand, but the muscles of
her jaw relaxed enough for a hint of a smile to show through. “Well, there’s a
first. Let’s go find Greenborrow and Whitethorn.” Her lips turned down in
determination. “Battle plans await.”

With a sharp nod
of assent, Gregory dropped to all fours and bumped his nose under her hand. Her
fingers skimmed over the curve of his muzzle and around the base of one horn
before settling in his mane as she took up a long legged stride, a perfect
match for his ground eating walk.

With the subtle
contact, peace flowed between them and Gregory’s world was back as it should
be.

Lillian halted
at the edge of the forest’s shadowy perimeter. Gregory mirrored her motion, and
she dropped her fingers away from his mane. The breeze blew cool across her
heated face, the contrast raising gooseflesh along her arms.

If she had a
choice, she would turn back and return to the cottage where her grandmother was
probably making another batch of cookies, knowing her. But Lillian did not
really have a choice, the Lady of Battles wasn’t giving her one. Gregory was
right. A battle was coming—with the humans or the Lady of Battles—Lillian
wasn’t sure which. She just hoped it wasn’t both at the same time. A war on two
fronts would be too much, even for Gregory, or at least impossible to limit
casualties.

The gravel path
continued for another dozen feet before it turned, winding its twisting way
through the trees and out of sight. Lillian hesitated a moment longer, and then
with a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and marched into the shadow of
the trees.

They walked in
silence. The only sounds their own footfalls and the soft rustle of leaves. The
forest was unnaturally quiet. No squirrels scurried among the branches.
Nothing, not so much as a bird song on the breeze. Even the resident chipmunks
were absent. She glanced in Gregory’s direction.

“It’s exactly
like Gran said; it’s as if all the wildlife has been scared off by a pack of
city born trophy hunters. No wonder Gran was having fits. Three months of this,
and I would be ready to start hunting the invaders, too,” Lillian grumbled more
to herself than Gregory.

They walked for
perhaps another twenty minutes. All the while the forest grew thicker, the
shadows darker, the rich scent of loam heavier in the air. As the forest
embraced her, Lillian relaxed further.

Gregory stopped,
lifted his head, and sniffed the air.

“Now what?”

In answer,
Gregory stepped out around her, veered off the path, and disappeared behind an
evergreen’s dense foliage.

“Why, Gregory,
thank you for answering my question.” With a snort, Lillian followed her
gargoyle off the path and into the forest. They continued to walk, dodging tree
trunks, craggy roots, thorny thickets, and boggy low spots. Lillian was used to
the forest’s tricky geography and kept pace with Gregory relatively painlessly,
though she was envious of the way he moved so gracefully.

She knew he
could move much faster without her, but she appreciated the slower pace given
how winded she was after even a short run. The shadows of the forest thinned
ahead, brightening to true sunlight twenty feet beyond. They emerged into a
meadow. This one carpeted with knee high grass and a sprinkling of wildflowers.
At the end of the clearing, the unicorn circled a large pine. He trotted with
his neck arched and his tail a glowing white banner behind him. Every inch of
his body language said he was pleased with himself.

When Lillian
squinted at the shadows below the pine’s sweeping branches, she could just make
out another shadowy form. Unlike the unicorn, who showed no more concern for
human authorities than Gregory did, the one under the tree was wise enough to
want to hide.

Upon closer
proximity, Lillian recognized the other Fae’s slender form and long silvery
hair, the shimmering shade not one she’d ever seen on a human. She raised a
hand in greeting to the sidhe leader. Whitethorn cast a nervous glance around
the meadow before he edged out from underneath the tree’s canopy. Only then did
Lillian notice he had his bow at the ready, an arrow notched. He lowered the
point to the ground and jerked his head toward darker shadows to his left.
There the forest thickened again, choking out the meadow grasses with the
shrubby growth of understory trees.

Gregory skirted
the meadow, and as Lillian paced him, she felt when he called on the cold magic
of the Spirit Realm. The air around them became chilled, like someone had
opened a freezer door. A fine mist rose from the warm ground, and shadows
beneath the surrounding trees deepened, blurring and softening the bright light
of day into something more like twilight. Ahead, Gregory’s bulk had vanished
completely, and Lillian was willing to bet she herself was now invisible to
mortal eyes.

But it didn’t
mean they were immune or hidden from a more technological variety of eye.

“Wait. Gregory,
you might not be as concealed as you think.”

Casting a
nervous look at the clear blue sky, she lengthened her strides and came
alongside where she’d last seen Gregory. She grabbed in the general vicinity of
where his shoulder should’ve been and came in contact with a wing instead.
Tugging forcefully, she attempted to turn him. “Humans have technology, science
you have never seen, which can track things like body heat and movement from
high overhead or kilometers away.”

He became
visible as he flicked his wing free of her grasp. “You doubt my ability to
protect us from humans?” Then turning toward her, he stepped closer until his
muzzle was only inches away.

Lillian held her
ground. “I’m not questioning your prowess as a protector. I’m questioning your
ability to find a peaceful resolution regarding humans.”

“Then you need
not worry.” Warm breath puffed across her cheeks. When he smiled, she got a
worm’s eye view of his very white fangs. His deep voice rumbled in her ears
when he spoke. “I sense no humans near us. There are a few within an hour’s
walk, but even if they stumble upon us, I promise to deal with them ‘gently’.
As for being seen from above, I have made it impossible.”

Standing toe to
toe, with his bulk dwarfing her, his massive wings curling to partially enfold
her in their velvet expanse, it would have been easy to back down to his
passive aggressive stance. Instead, she tilted her head so she could meet his
gaze and asked, “Care to elaborate on the last statement?”

He drew a deep
breath which expanded his chest and leaned closer until they were nose to nose.
“Not now.”

Grumpy
, she thought,
now who needs an attitude adjustment?
“If
you’re not going to budge, why are we wasting time with this staring contest?”
Lillian tossed back, and then placed a kiss on the tip of his nose. He jumped
back, startled, and she hooted. “You moved, points for me.”

Gregory huffed,
folded his wings tight, and stormed off toward Whitethorn.

“Spoil sport,”
she called out to his retreating back. Grinning so hard it hurt, she followed
in his wake. While she might not possess great powers like she’d supposedly
once commanded, still she had a purpose—keeping her beloved gargoyle humble.
And possibly guiding him through all the pitfalls he might encounter in the
modern world he so despised.

Lillian hung
back while Gregory and Whitethorn exchanged formal greetings. Even when she’d
still been an Avatar to a Goddess and possessed the title of Mother’s
Sorceress, somehow she doubted decisions involving war, weapon-making, and
troop placements would have fallen to her. Those details seemed more in line
with Gregory’s overprotective personality.

“The pooka said
you wished to speak with me, Lord Gargoyle.” The sidhe leader’s words were
accompanied by a half bow, the move more graceful than anything executed on a
ballroom floor. Without the shimmering silver locks, pointed ears, and dark
grey brocade tunic, he’d look perfectly at home on one of those polished floors
as well.

She had yet to
meet a Fae lacking in elegance—well, excluding the times she glanced in a mirror.

Maybe
elegance sometimes skips generations like other genetic traits?

Gregory’s
rumbling voice drew her back to the conversation at hand. “Gran informed me
while Lillian and I rested and healed for three months, we received some
unusual ‘guests’. We must conceive of a solution to our present problems.”

“A wise idea.
But not here where we are so exposed.” Whitethorn drew back deeper into the
shadows, gesturing for Lillian and Gregory to follow. “If Vivian told you of
our visitors, she must have also warned you of the increased numbers of humans
roaming our lands. It isn’t safe to remain in the open.”

Gregory’s tail
twitched at the word ‘humans’, but he mellowed enough to follow Whitethorn
without argument, for which Lillian was grateful. Perhaps she had an ally in
the sidhe leader.

Deeper into the
woods, they finally stopped, and she perched on a fallen tree trunk. Gregory
and Whitethorn both turned to look out beyond their circle, toward a small game
trail to the right of where Lillian sat. She glanced in the same direction but
saw nothing. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask what they found so
interesting when she heard the soft clomp of hooves. Seconds later the unicorn
galloped down the path in their direction, Greenborrow clinging to his back. As
soon as the unicorn halted, Greenborrow tumbled off.

A few choice
words in an unknown language colored the small clearing. More disheveled than
normal, Greenborrow straightened his baggy clothes and squared his shoulders,
growing taller as she watched. He stomped his feet a couple times as if it
would knock the wrinkles out of his long tunic, and then he closed his eyes and
curled his bare toes into the forest loam. After a deep sigh, he opened his
eyes and took them all in with a merry look. “That’s better. Solid ground under
my feet. No leshii was ever intended to ride horseback.”

At the leshii’s
words, the unicorn neighed loud enough to echo through the forest.

“What’s gotten
into you?” Greenborrow leveled a glare at the equine. “Oh…horseback, unicorn, pooka….one’s
as unnatural to ride as another.”

“Then walk
next time!”
With a twirl of his head, the unicorn
spun and galloped back into the forest.

“That went
well,” Lillian mumbled under her breath.

“I thought so.”
Greenborrow bestowed her with a grin and a jaunty little bow. “Always nice to
see you.” Then turning to Gregory and Whitethorn, he became more serious.
“Well, Lord Gargoyle, what thoughts do you hide behind those black mirror
eyes?”

“Dark thoughts,”
Gregory said. He shook out his wings and sat down with his tail curled around
his haunches. The other two Fae joined him, and he gestured for Lillian to sit
by his side.

She hadn’t fully
settled herself when a semi-heavy weight landed in her lap. Gregory proceeded
to coil his tail around her waist twice until the spade-shaped tip was again
directly in front, conveniently under her hands. Inwardly, she smiled at the
predictability of her touchy-feely guardian while she settled her fingers on
the boney ridges and began to massage between the plate-like armor at the very
tip.

Whitethorn
arched an eyebrow before he continued the conversation from earlier. “If we
don’t take precautions, we may find ourselves fighting a battle on three
fronts—the humans, the Riven, and the Lady of Battles. Even you, Gregory, might
find those daunting odds.”

“The Lady of
Battles is my greatest concern. While she can’t come here herself, she may send
her warriors soon. My normal defensive weavings will not remain effective for
any length of time in this Realm so I must try another method. I will gift any
Fae who wishes to join me with magic forged weapons and personal defensive
spells keyed to an object. It will protect the magic from the ravages of this
Realm.”

“Permanent
talismans,” Greenborrow whistled. “You, my boy, are planning on expending a
great deal of magic. More Fae will come, curious as they would be of any
gargoyle in the Mortal Realm. Many newcomers have already arrived, and felt
your power even as you healed. Some of the oldest guessed who and what you
are—the Avatars. In this magic-starved land, you my darlings, are an unequaled
banquet.”

Gregory nodded.
“And I welcome them to come to feast on magic cast off as I forge weapons and
spells.”

“Is that a
bribe?” Whitethorn asked, sounding almost incredulous.

“Yes, if it will
sway more to my side.”

“And if we are
victorious?”

“My offer is
still the same, there is no limit upon it. When I return home with Lillian, any
who wish to come with me, may.”

Greenborrow
slapped his knees and chuckled. “And, that, my fine gargoyle, is the best bribe
of all.”

Whitethorn’s nod
was dower. “Indeed.”

“Why are we just
sitting here? Are we waiting for the Lady of Battles to show up for tea?”
Greenborrow stood up and bowed to Lillian. “Though your lovely grandmother
might just be civil enough to bake for even her worst enemy.”

“A word of
caution.” The sidhe leader stood in one graceful motion. “Not all Fae who come
to you will be trust worthy.”

“I don’t expect
them to be,” Gregory said and glanced in the direction of a darker shadow,
which coalesced into the pooka. “My personal standards are not as elevated as
they once were.”

Gregory unwound
his tail from Lillian’s waist. She missed the weight and the warmth, but also
the gentle flow of magic between them; however, she didn’t let it distract her
from an earlier worry. “But what are we supposed to do with the humans while we
wage a war with the Battle Goddess’ minions. Most humans aren’t bad….for
goodness sake, I thought I was human. You can’t expect me to stand aside and
allow harm to come to them.”