The Last Witch (Incenaga Trilogy) (28 page)

Only the cloaked man look
ed the other way. He sat in the shadows with his head down.

“What do you plan to do with me,” Emmeline asked as
she contemplated the flames. The fire had no effect on her, and it made her feel so alone, so powerless. Mahlon’s command prevented her from even drawing in its healing warmth, which she sorely needed.

“What
don’t
we plan to do?” Mahlon said.

Emmeline grimaced.

The cloaked man shifted on the log and Mahlon glanced at him before clearing his throat. “A unit of Pamizakian soldiers is in route to Dolmerti. They are on a reconnaissance mission, we believe. We plan to move things along, if you will.”

Emmeline’s eyes narrowed. “
How exactly are you planning to do that?”

“I think you know, my dear.”

The soldiers broke into mocking laughter. Emmeline bristled. Of course she knew, but she refused to believe it. Mahlon had wanted her to kill the Crown Prince so the people of Dolmerti would call for a war. He never said anything about murdering Pamizakian soldiers in the meantime.

“Why is Pamizak sending a unit of men?”
she asked.

“
I’m assuming it has something to do with the delay in a viable peace treaty. The Pamizakian King was told of your arrival in Dolmerti months ago and must be concerned the Crown Prince has yet to claim his bride.”

“And you mean to stop the Pamizak
ian soldiers before they reach the palace?”

“At
the very least.” Mahlon grinned and the soldiers laughed.

“Why do you need me, then
? You have your mighty army.” Emmeline waved her arm toward the soldiers. “Use them to execute your disgusting plans.”

“They’ll be used, but I’d rather their tasks
were completed without injury or loss. It takes a great deal of my energy to train these men. It would be a waste of Dolmerti’s resources to train new men, or maintain the lives of the injured.”

“And so you want me to hold their hands, wipe their noses, and make things easier to handle? Well, I won’t.”

“You are my witch now, Emmeline. You have no choice.”

“This
is treason! The King will have your head.”

“No, he’ll have your head.
Not only does he trust me, but you have been missing from the palace since the Crown Prince announced his return. If it comes down to it, I’ll tell him you were involved in the attack, which will be the truth.”

Emmeline
held up her chin. “Why would he believe that I would kill my own people?”

“I’ll tell him what you told me all those weeks ago. The Pamizak
ian people aren’t your people. You’ve lived in a forest all your life. You have no people.”

Emmeline
swallowed. “Whatever happened to waiting for my marriage to the Crown Prince and me killing—”

Mahlon snapped his fingers and scowled at her, cutting
her off. “You will not speak of such things in the open.”

Emmeline looked around the fire
at the dark forest trees. “Who will hear? The owls? Will they fly to the Crown Prince and tell him of your deceit?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Emmeline lifted her chin. “MAHLON IS A TREACHEROUS FOOL!”

“Silence!” Mahlon
shouted.

Emmeline clamped her mouth
shut. She wanted to scream, shout insults, but the murder in his eyes, and the command in his breath, kept her from saying anything more.

The soldiers b
roke into a chorus of jeers and Mahlon puffed his chest in self-veneration. Emmeline scowled and turned her attention to the quiet man on the log, his face untouched by the firelight. His elbows were on his knees, his hands clasped together in front of him, his head bowed. She wondered what part he played in Mahlon’s game of war. What brought him to the band of men who were deceiving their King?

Emmeline lingered by the fire until it burned down to nothing more than glowing embers. It hadn’t offered any warmth, nor any strength. She had hoped for one spark of control, one flash of power, but it had failed her just as she had failed herself.

She stood
, her heart heavy, and dragged her tired feet to the tent. Lifting the canvas flap, she ducked her head to enter. How was she going to get herself out of this mess?

She heard
his breathing before she saw him and her heart lurched to her throat. The cloaked man stood in the center of the tent, his shoulders taking up most of the cramped space. He grabbed her arm and pulled her against him before she had a chance to retreat. His hand clasped over her mouth.

“I won’t let him drain you,” he whispered.

There was something familiar in the rhythm of his words, but she couldn’t place a face. Why would he care if she was drained of life and power? Unless he wanted to become her master.

“Fine,” she whispered ba
ck, “then do something about it rather than following Mahlon around like a silent brooder.”

“
I
am
doing something. Listen to me. What you do tomorrow is necessary, but you must concentrate on using only a small portion of your power, or you may die. Think of how you can fulfill each order as simply as possible, and with very little effort. Draw in more heat than you release.”

Was he on her side? No, if he was, he would have
taken her back to the palace rather than sitting by the fire while Mahlon spoke of her undoing. Although the darkness kept him from seeing her face, she glared at him and hoped he felt the heat of it.

He gripped her shoulders. “Do you understand?”

Emmeline nodded. She must use less power than she took in if she wanted to survive. But survive for what? For more orders from Mahlon?

The man sighed. “You’re power is too young for this.” He
pressed his lips to her forehead and ducked out of the tent.

Emmeline wiped her skin
, disgusted and bewildered. Who did he think he was to press his grimy lips to her face? She sat on the ground and rubbed at her forehead with the back of her hand. What was she doing? If she stayed, her actions would spur a war. If she left, there would be no peace treaty. Either way, war would come. She could do nothing to stop it. But if she left, she wouldn’t have to harm the Pamizakian soldiers, she wouldn’t have to marry a stranger, she wouldn’t have to kill him. She could find her father and they could disappear to some far off place. No one would find them.

Emmeline stood, her fists clenched. Could she really leave?
Would Mahlon’s control stop her somehow? And what if she got lost, or couldn’t find food? She shook her head. She couldn’t worry about those things. She’d worry about them if the situations arose. She only knew that she had to try.

Emmeline lifted the flap of her tent and peeked out. Three soldiers remained at the fire, their shoulders slumped as they
watched the glowing embers. Several more were sprawled on the ground, their jaws slackened in sleep. Mahlon was nowhere to be seen.

Half a dozen
horses were tied near the fire with another half dozen tied in the trees. The horses in the trees were farther, but better concealed in the darkness, their black eyes glinting in the moonlight.

Emmeline crouched low and
crept toward the trees. Freshly fallen needles crackled under her boots, the scent of pine wafting into the air.

“Where are you going?” Mahlon said.

Emmeline jumped. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“It doesn’t look like it,” he said as he stepped out from the trees.

Emmeline folded her arms. “Please tell me, what does it look like to your exalted mind, master?”

“There is no reason to be rude, Emmeline.”

“Isn’t there? You have done nothing to earn my respect.”

“After tonight,
that may change. You will begin to understand the value I bring to Dolmerti.”

“Tonight?”

“Yes, the Pamizakian soldiers are within an hour’s ride. We are leaving now to meet them.”

Emmeline
leaned against a tree. It was too late to run. She had no choice but to follow Mahlon’s commands. She slid down the rough bark and landed on the ground. The reality of her situation pushed her further into the dirt. Her life had no meaning. She had no choices, no control. She was a slave.

“Get up.” Mahlon said with a ring of authority.

Emmeline obeyed. What was the point of resisting? Defiance would only drain what little energy she had left, and her body would end up obeying anyhow.

Emmeline
wondered how long the Incenagas survived after they were enslaved. If how she felt after destroying the carriage was any indicator, she feared it wasn’t very long at all. But something confused her. During her practice sessions, she used just as much power, if not more, and it had very little effect on her strength. What was the difference? Was it simply because she was enslaved, or because Mahlon wouldn’t let her draw in the fire’s heat on her own? Perhaps they were one and the same.

“Stay here,
” he ordered.

Emmeline nodded
, curled her shoulders inward and wrapped her arms around herself. This was it. This was how all the other witches lived out the end of their days. Cold, alone, and chained to a relentless master.

“Get up men!” Mahlon shouted
to his men. “The hour is upon us. It is time to let our witch prove herself.”

Emmeline bit her lip and dropped her head to her chest. She
wanted to run, hide, anything. But Mahlon’s orders bound her feet to the ground.

“She will provide an easy victory
for all of us,” Mahlon continued as his men stirred from their sleep, “and guarantee all of you may return to your wives and families.”

But what of the Pamizak
ian wives and families, Emmeline thought sourly. Didn’t they matter?

“We leave at once.
” Mahlon said.

He
marched back through the underbrush and took hold of Emmeline’s upper arm. “You will ride next to me and remain at my flank until we come upon the Pamizakians.”

Emmeline
lowered her chin and followed Mahlon to the horses. A beautiful black mare caught her attention and Emmeline’s heart fluttered with hope. She knew only one horse that stood with such pride. She closed the distance and purred into Filia’s silky mane. Filia nickered and nudged Emmeline with her muzzle.

“I missed you girl,”
Emmeline said.

Filia
snorted.

“I know, kn
ow. I never should have left.”

Emmeline loosened
Filia’s cinch underneath her belly and adjusted the bridal over her ears, knowing just how Filia liked it. She gave her one more pat and then mounted her. Emmeline sat tall in the saddle, strengthened by the nearness of her beloved friend.

“Are you ready,” Mahlon asked.

“No,” Emmeline said.

Mahlon snorted and dug his heels into his mount. He knew she would follow. And she did.

They rode at top speeds as the road twisted and curled around the mountain. The soldiers followed, as well as the cloaked man, who flanked Mahlon’s other side. Emmeline lowered herself into the saddle and begrudgingly kept pace with Mahlon, her heart beating faster the further they traveled.

Filia
maintained a steady gallop, a strong support underneath Emmeline’s frightened lead. What was Mahlon going to force her to do? How many horrendous acts would she have to execute before she suffered the same fate as the other Incenagas? She shrunk into her saddle. Maybe it wasn’t too late to do what her mother had done. What was her life compared to the number of lives she might be forced to take?

Mahlon slowed to an easy gait
and held out his hands for everyone to halt. Emmeline and the soldiers complied, and the quiet of the night swallowed them whole. A brisk wind flew up the road and disappeared behind them, sending a chill up Emmeline’s spine. An owl hooted in the distance, a tree rustled.

The quiet shuffle of dozens of mounted horses echoed from around the mountain
bend. The Pamizakian soldiers were nearly upon them, unaware of the ambush that awaited them when they followed the curve of the road.

The Pamizak
ian unit was not being very inconspicuous, Emmeline thought. Their horse tack jingled, their weapons clanked, and their whispers were a chorus in the night. A few of Mahlon’s soldiers chuckled underneath their breath. If Pamizak’s plans had been to rely on the cloak of night for concealment, they were failing indeed.

The moon peaked out from behind the clouds just as the Pamizak unit rounded the bend. Both sides were illuminated
in the purple-grey light—Dolmerti stationed in the center of the road and Pamizak barreling to a halt as its captain’s arm shot into the air. After a pause, the captain lowered his arm and then sat motionless. The owl hooted again.

Mahlon’s call pierced through the chill.
“What reason do you have to cross into our lands?”

“We come in peace,” the Pamizak
ian captain called out. “We have no quarrel with you.”

Mahlon chortled deep in his throat. He twisted in his saddle and reached for an unlit torch
jutting out from his saddle packs. Pouring a pungent liquid on the round head, he struck a match and the torch burst to life. Mahlon’s eager grin glowed in the firelight. He held the torch high and then handed it to Emmeline in a ceremonious way.

“Take it,” he said
when she didn’t reach for it.

Emmeline grasped the end of the torch and
held it far from her.

“They can’t see you yet. Draw in the fire’s power.”

Heat flooded her body, rejuvenating her, clearing her mind, healing her. She pulled in as much as she could. It filled every crevice of her body, every corner of her soul. She felt as though she would burst into flames, but she drew in more and more, relishing in its power and fearing it all the same.

“That is quite enough,” Mahlon said.

The fire’s flow ceased.

“Now, step down from your mount.”

Emmeline obeyed.

Mahlon grinned wider. “Isn’t this fun?”

Emmeline glared at him.

“You will
learn I am a master who will bring you a great deal of excitement.”

“You will use me until I die.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll allow you enough heat to string your life along. I’m a good master, you’ll see.”

T
he cloaked man lowered himself from the saddle. Mahlon leaned down to hear what he had to say. Emmeline wished the cloaked man would just speak aloud.

Mahlon straightened in his saddle and turned back to Emmeline.
“Pace yourself as you near the Pamizakian soldiers, Emmeline. When they recognize you, and they will, many will try to run. Kill them.”

Emmeline gasped. “Please, don’t make me do this.” But she was already stepping toward the Pamizak
ian soldiers.

“Wait,” Mahlon said.
“Only kill those who run. My men are in need of sport. Detain the remainder until we come to you. You may go.”

Emm
eline fought every step, but the need to obey was stronger. Her movements were jilted like a wooden puppet on a string, but she moved forward nonetheless. There was nothing she could do to stop it. With the torch still in her hand, her face shone like a beacon. The Pamizakian soldiers narrowed their eyes as she neared. A few drew their heads back, their eyes wide.

“An Incenaga!” one of them
shouted. “Run for your lives!”

“No!” Emmeline called out. Her face contorted in
anguish. More than half were running back toward the bend. She’d have to kill over twenty men.

Although
the fleeing soldiers were mounted on horses, they never rounded the bend. Emmeline sent a wall of heat to block the horses, and with her arms waving as if she were conducting a symphony of death, she pulled the soldiers from their mounts and sent them hurling into the unyielding mountain. Skulls cracked, necks snapped. Within a matter of moments, bodies were piled in heaps of grey and blue, dark uniforms absorbing blood that gushed from protruding bones.

Screams
broke out from the remaining soldiers, each cry cutting through Emmeline like a thousand shards of ice. They were terrified of her. She was terrified of herself. The stench of death filled the air as her body swayed. Emmeline’s lips trembled, her body trembled. She closed her eyes and let her chin fall to her chest. She was so tired. But the rumble of retreating riders brought her attention up.

“No!” Emmeline called out
, her voice a strangled cry. “Don’t run!” But they couldn’t hear her and her heavy arms were already lifting. She didn’t think she had any strength left, but heat left her outstretched palms and the escaping soldiers were suddenly thrown out of their saddles. One of them fell to his chest, and rather than attempt to run on foot, he caught her gaze and his eyes turned to pleading. He was young and Emmeline hated herself for what she knew was about to happen. Another wave of heat left her hands and the young soldier clawed at the ground as she dragged him toward the cliff. His screams chilled her to the core. With a quick jerk of her forearm, he too crumbled into the unyielding stone, his pleading eyes turning vacant.