The Witch's Eye (37 page)

The trick would be surviving that long.

They saw
a small and craggy island covered with thick undergrowth and dark sand.  Smoke rose from a crude camp occupied by soldiers, probably a platoon out of Ath or Dusk.  A black-on-white Southern Claw flag rippled in the wet wind, and a pair of black canvas tents stood next to a shelf of crumbling shale located a few hundred yards in from the beach.  Cross caught sight of a lookout in the distant trees, and then another.  He tasted wild hex currents, a perimeter of magic. 

The
Higgins boat roughly came to shore, and for a moment Cross thought they’d be thrown forward.  He was fairly certain Doj didn’t understand the notion of slowing down. 

He heard a sharp whistle and the crank of a wheel,
followed by a loud splash as the forward door dropped open into the water.  The Lith and Doj filed out silently, leading the crystal horses behind them. Cross followed with Musad’s leash in hand, but the brute resisted, content to remain on the ship.

“C
’mon, dummy.”             

Musad looked at him with an expression that made clear
it was thinking the same thing.

The s
tony beach crunched underfoot.  Cross could tell they’d been in the boat for the better part of a day, as he had trouble keeping his balance now that he was back on solid ground, and his stomach felt like it was a few feet ahead of him. 

A spirit wrapped around him
with just enough force to get his attention.  Cross saw a tall and lithe woman with numerous tattoos visible beneath her open black cloak; she wore leather armor that was cut low enough to leave her shoulders and neckline exposed, and her angular face was cast with runes.

“Eric Cross,” she said.

It took him a moment.

“Ankharra,” he said.  “
Talon Company.  Wow, it’s been a while.”

“Not as long as one would think,
based on your appearance,” she said.  “When did you skip your thirties?”

“Long story.”

“I’ve actually heard most of it,” she said. 

“Is Crylos with you?”

A Corporal dressed in black and green fatigues and leather field armor stepped up and offered to take Musad’s reins.  Cross reluctantly handed them over.

“No
,” Ankharra said.  “He’s east of Ath, defending it from Fane’s forward forces.”

“Fane?!” Cross asked.  “Shit. 
So they really are defecting, huh?”  Ankharra watched him with a questioning look.  “And…that’s probably old news, isn’t it?” Cross said.  “Look, I think I’ve been…out of it for a while.”

“I
’ll say.”  She looked him and down.  “Let’s get you and your friends something to eat.  We have a lot to talk about.”

The inside of the tent wasn’t much drier than it was outside, but at least they had a fire and bowls of strongly spiced vegetable soup.  The warmth of the wooden bowls was comforting against Cross’s calloused fingers.  It might have been his imagination but he didn’t feel like his skin looked as tough or as leathery as it had even the day before.

The
man who dished them soup from the cauldron, Fisk, seemed a bit overweight for a soldier; Cross guessed he’d gained position either because he knew somebody or else he was being punished for something he’d done.  Either way, he nervously watched them eat, to the point where Flint started to stare back at him.

“What?” the older man demanded.

Fisk nervously went back to tending the cast-iron pot.  “Sorry, it’s just…it’s a real pleasure to meet you, Mr. Cross,” he said.  He looked to be in his early twenties, with a thick Southerly accent.  “I’ve heard so much about you, especially from Talon Company, about the Battle of Karamanganjii.  Oh, and those soldiers you rescued in Dusk.  I wonder…did that really happen the way they say it did?”

“I don
’t know,” Cross said through a mouthful of burning soup.  “I’m not sure how they say it happened.”

Ankharra and Wara entered the tent, which was barely tall enough for the Doj woman to stand up in. 

“Fisk,” Ankharra said.  “Excuse us.  Take the girl and her father with you.”

Fisk nervously looked at Flint and Shiv.  Flint looked at Cross, who watched Ankharra for a moment before he nodded.  Shiv
seemed nervous and uncertain, but Cross gave her a nod, too.

“It
’s okay.  We’re just going to chat for a bit.” 

Flint and Shiv slowly made their way out of the tent, and Fisk
closed the flap behind him as they left.  The air was dark and smoky.  The noise from outside only barely penetrated within, doubtlessly the work of an enchantment Ankharra had laid down.  Wara stayed near the tent flap with her arms folded, while Ankharra sat at the short table in the corner.  Cross remained on the bench and drank his soup.

“Do you know where you were going?”
Ankharra asked him at last.

“There was a
little bit of a language barrier,” he said.  “But I’d gathered we were going to destroy a floating gem I’d watched wipe out an entire slave caravan.  I think it also took out Dirge.”  He paused.  “We were also going to kill a spider that stole a friend I’d still like to get back.”  He looked from Ankharra to Wara. “So,” he said.  “Do I get to know what’s going on?”

“The gem you saw is part of s
omething called the Witch’s Eye,” Ankharra said.  “It’s a failed Ebon Cities experiment to replicate human magic.  The item siphons soul energy, much in the same fashion as their Bonespires, only this device is portable, and it’s capable of focusing those energies in a wide variety of ways.  It was supposed to infuse vampires with the powers of a human mage.”

“Shit,” Cross said.  “They were trying to ma
ke vampire witches and warlocks…”

“Yes.”

“You said ‘failed’,” Cross said.  “What went wrong?”

“We
’re not sure.  But every vampire infused with the Eye’s power turns into a ravenous and murderous beast…even by vampire standards.”  Cross smiled at that.  Ankharra continued.  “These transformed vampires – Witchborn, they’re called – can infect other vampires and make them into zombie-like creatures with wild but potent arcane abilities.  The power is too much for them to handle – the Witchborn don’t last long, and their bodies burn themselves out, but they can do incredible damage before their time is up.

“The Eye split into
three separate pieces, and the vampires have been trying to get them back ever since,” Ankharra continued.  “The Witchborn are dangerous, as you’ve seen yourself.  Dangerous, and out of control.”

“Dangerous to who?” Cross asked.  “I mean, if these energies turn vampires into short-lived beasts that feed on
other
vampires…”

“They target vam
pires first,” Ankharra said.  “But they don’t stop there, and they’re just as dangerous to humans.  You’re not the first one to have that idea.  Fane is trying to get their hands on the Eye, and so is the Ebon Cities.”

“You said
three separate pieces,” Cross said. 

“Just
two, now,” Ankharra said.  “One was destroyed in Wolftown.  Another was likely the same one that wiped out your slave caravan.  We believe it was on its way to meld with the largest fragment when it happened across you.”

Cross put down his soup bowl and laced his fingers together. 

“How was the first piece destroyed?”

“By your friend, Danica Black,” Wara said in her thick voice.  It was the first words she
’d spoken since she’d entered the tent. 

“Where is she?” he asked.

“Close,” Wara answered.  “And she’s getting closer to the Eye by the moment.  We have to stop her from reaching it.”

“Wait a second,” Cross said.  “I
’m confused.  Do we want this thing destroyed, or not?”

“
We
do,” Ankharra said.  “The fact that the Ebon Cities came so close to copying human magic is terrifying.  The White Council wants all traces of the experiment eradicated.”

“But the Ebon Cities wants it back,” Cross said with a nod.

“Of course,” Wara said.  Her voice was three times as loud as Cross’s.  “They wish to see where they went wrong, to correct the mistakes and make their own armies of warlocks and witches.  Winning the war would be all but assured.”

“Dramatic,” Cross said.  “So what does Danica have to do with all of this?  I know she was…modified, someho
w.  I sensed she’d changed when I saw her in the Whisperlands.  But why is she hunting the Eye?  And why would we
stop
her?”

“Because up until
very recently Danica Black was under the control of the Ebon Cities,” Ankharra said.  She gave Cross a moment to let that sink in.

“Christ,” he said. 
The spider.  It had wanted her to end up in their hands.  But why? 
“Doing what?”

“Fighting the Witchborn,” Ankharra said.

“It seems your girlfriend has a talent for yielding Necroblades,” Wara said.  “She’s also damn good at killing Witchborn.  She was in Lorn, where the infestation had taken over an entire platoon of vampires in the nearby countryside.  Every day more tried to attack the city, but a woman called Dragon destroyed them all.”

“That was Danica?” Cross asked.  Wara gave him an
Are you stupid?
look.  “Where is she now?”

“The vampire
commanding Lorn, Lady Riven, dispatched Black and a pair of revenants to investigate Witchborn activity in the remains of Wolftown,” Ankharra said.  “Black encountered some Southern Claw soldiers, who managed to help her break free from Riven’s control.  She fled with them into the wilderness after she destroyed the first shard, which had created a nest in Wolftown. 

“One of our soldiers from that mission
, along with a couple of Wolftown survivors, found Talon Company while we were en route to Rimefang Loch,” Ankharra said.  “
I
believe the Ebon Cities can track Danica Black.  From what Corporal Reza told us, it appeared Danica had been bitten, and while she didn’t seem to be a vampire…”

“You
’re afraid she’s still tapped into their collective consciousness,” Cross finished.

“It
’s certainly not outside the realm of possibility.  Something is driving her towards the Eye, some sense of purpose or an arcane vision or…well, frankly, I don’t know what.”

I do
, Cross thought. 
Azradayne. 
But he wasn’t about to say that out loud.

“Ok, but you
still didn’t answer my question,” he said.  “Where is she?”

Ankharra looked at Wara, who shrugged.  The witch gave the giant a look.

“We don’t know,” Ankharra said.  “Reza said Black was heading for an island somewhere in the Loch, where she believed the Eye was located.  We have no idea how Black came across this information.”

“But you know where this island is, right?” Cross said.  His patience was wearing thin.  “Right?”

“Not exactly,” Wara said.

“Shit.”

“There’s more,” Ankharra said.  “Danica isn’t alone.  She was with three others when she and Reza parted ways: a Wolftown mage, a Gol, and a mercenary swordsman.  The mage and the Gol were injured, and have since been found by our scouts back on the mainland.”

Cross thought for a second. 

“I’m not sure about the mage, but…”

“His name is Creasy,” Ankharra said.  “The others were Ronan and Maur, from your team.”

Cross felt a wave of relief pass over him. 

“Thank God,” he said.  “Have you had contact with
the others?”

Ankharra
’s already grim face went darker.  Her lips tightened, and she slowly shook her head.

Cross just looked at her.

“Are they…all that’s left?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said.  “Ronan, Maur, and a witch named Jade were the only survivors
from the battle at Voth Ra’morg.”

“Voth Ra
’morg?” Cross asked.  “That’s way the hell past Wolfland,…what were they doing there?”  He heard the anger in his own voice.  He tried to stand, but he couldn’t.

Christ.  That means Ash…Grissom…

Mike. 

His
body shook.  He felt his limbs go weak.

“I…I need a minute…”

Wara backed away.  Ankharra pushed the giant out of the tent.

Cross tried to
stay calm.  Panic came in a wave that ran from his toes to his skull.  He slipped off the bench and sat on the ground, trying all he could to keep his tears inside, but he couldn’t. 

He
’d lost friends before.  Teammates.  He tried to tell himself this was no different.

But
it was. 

He balled his fists and pulled his legs in and sat there in the cold dirt
with the bench at his back.  He coughed out sobs until his chest hurt and his eyes were raw.  Every breath felt like it came through a mouthful of knives.  He wanted to hit something, to hurt something.  He clenched his teeth so hard he thought they’d break.  He wanted to close his eyes, and when he opened them he’d wake up and he’d be back in Thornn, back in bed, back in a time when everything had made sense.