Witch Bane Page 9

  His cheeks searing with the heat of his anger, Sebastian turned away.

  “Our enemy is the same,” Elizabeth said behind him, her words quiet. He felt her draw closer. “If you will not join us then at least offer us some hope for the future.” Her hand slid along his shoulder, her fingertips trailing down his neck, prickling the hair at his nape. “Your mother was an amazing power, and I am certain that potential rests in you, as well. Do not let it die there in a foolish quest for revenge you cannot hope to achieve. Share it with me.” She turned Sebastian toward her. “Give me your seed so your child might grow to oppose the Council as you do.”

  “You speak of a person, not some resource to be plundered,” Darius cut in.

  “This is—” she started.

  Sebastian removed her hand, casting it aside. “This is over.” He met her eyes, all his fury buried in the cold grave of his will. His father had been right to hide in the wastes, far from the machinations of humanity. He usually was, Sebastian realized. He laughed to think of how many times he’d argued with Darius only to learn that simple fact. “I thank you for tending my wounds and for your hospitality. You are right that we have the same enemy, but we do not share the same cause nor do we have the same passion. I wish you the best and hope you can make something of the ruin I plan to leave in my wake.” He turned and strode over to Darius. He could see the hint of a smile on his father’s lips, and even through his rage, it made him proud to see it.

  “I understand your desire, Sebastian. I, too, would love to see the witches who murdered your mother pay for their crime, but I have other obligations.” She gestured to the camp. “If you survive your mission, come back to us and help build a nation. You would be a great leader, like your mother was.” She sighed. “Take what you need from our stores, and feel welcome to remain in camp until it grows light. I—”

  A young boy rushed up to Elizabeth, his breath labored. “Elizabeth. The scouts, they’ve found her.”

  She waved him to silence, her eyes darting to Sebastian and Darius. The boy’s gaze followed. She stood quiet as the messenger shuffled uncomfortably. After a long moment, she sighed and nudged the messenger to go on. “Tell me.”

  The boy looked to Elizabeth, staying silent until she nodded again for him to speak. He turned to glance at Sebastian and Darius before returning his gaze to Elizabeth. “There were rumors the Red Witch accompanied her soldiers into the field. One of our men has spied her, proving the rumor true.” He smiled wide. “Her and two squadrons of Red Guard were seen on the march less than thirty miles from here, headed our direction.” He pointed off into the woods.

  Sebastian’s heart skipped a beat, his breath cold in his chest.

  “So close?” Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed. “We must not be here when she arrives.” She looked to Sebastian. “My people are not yet ready to face the witches. If you would taste a piece of your revenge, the time is now.” She ordered the young man to gather everyone together. He ran off to comply. “I must make arrangements for us to flee, but I wish you well, Sebastian. Look for us should you make it through.” Elizabeth nodded her farewell and drifted off toward the bustling sounds by the fire, the camp preparing to move.

  Sebastian turned to his father. “A ploy of some kind?”

  Darius shrugged. “Perhaps, but it doesn’t matter. Elizabeth has every reason to want the Red Witch dead. She loses nothing by sending you after her, yet gains much. Should you succeed, she has aimed the weapon and can claim your victory as her own. Should you be slain, you have given her people time to find a new hideaway and she loses none of her own in the attempt.”

  Sebastian groaned. “So, despite it all, I’m still her pawn.”

  “Get used to it, boy. This is what warriors do.” His father grinned wide and set a hand on his shoulder. He turned him toward the woods where the messenger boy had pointed. “You are a young man who has made his father proud this night.” He gave a gentle squeeze. “We came to slay witches and the opportunity has presented itself, so let’s be about it.” Darius strode toward the trees.

  A whistling sigh slipped loose as Sebastian followed after. The moment he’d been waiting for now upon him, he whispered to the spirit of his mother. Though he had no belief in the One, he knew if the god truly existed, his mother would be at his side. He hoped she could hear his words.

  He would have justice soon, or they would be reunited in the afterlife.

  Twelve

  Headed straight toward the enemy, Sebastian and Darius stuck to the thickest stretches of forest they found along their path. While the Red Witch and her minions swept the woods, likely looking for the resistance, they knew soldiers would scour the skies as well.

  The men in the trees would stand out, the Council having never learned the lesson of subtlety. No matter the mission, the Red Guard wore their traditional armor, stained in the color of blood. There would be no missing them amidst the browns and greens of the forest. They were an army trained for the open field, their numbers their advantage. The transports, however, would come in fast, appearing above them before the Griffins gave them away. They were the biggest threat…until the witch arrived.

  Sebastian and Darius had taken up parallel tracks as they moved, staying close enough to see each other yet far enough to hope that if they encountered the Red Guard, only one might be spotted, leaving the other to come to his aid. While they had plunged ahead early on, their excitement driving them forward, they had since slowed their pace. It would do them no good to stumble across a scouting party unaware, surprise the only factor still in their favor.

  Sebastian crept forward, his eyes scanning the trees, occasionally darting to check the canopy and the skies above. He reached out to push aside a tangle of brush when a sound caught his ear. He signaled to Darius and ducked where he stood, noting that his father had already dropped to the ground. His breath still in his lungs, Sebastian listened. Right away he heard the rustle of movement a ways ahead. It moved their direction.

  Darius drew his sword and slid the blade beneath the leaves and humus at his feet to keep the steel from reflecting. Sebastian unsheathed his own weapon but held it behind the trunk of the tree he squatted near. His mercurial sword was unreflective, but still he did not wish it to be seen. The two waited while the sounds grew nearer, Sebastian picking out the slow clop of horses as they picked their way through the crowded trees. Though he couldn’t see the riders, it was unlikely to be the witches’ soldiers. They rarely used mounts outside of the griffins. Given the casual pace of those approaching, as well as the path they’d chosen through the thick of the forest, it was more likely to be bandits or wealthy travelers. Both could be a problem were they to see Sebastian and his father lurking in the woods.

  Sebastian sunk lower as the horses drew nearer. His father signaled he would sweep to the left, leaving the right for Sebastian. He followed with the hold command to ensure Sebastian knew to wait on his father to decide their course of action. Once Darius disappeared behind the foliage, Sebastian drifted off the other direction. He stayed low until he found a spot the riders were sure to pass, and dropped down behind a thick trunk to wait. It didn’t take long.

  The first broke through the obscuring branches, the broad head of a warhorse leading the way. It pushed its way forward, picking its path with surefooted certainty. The man in the saddle seemed at ease atop the massive beast. His face was tanned and weather-beaten, long gray hair tied down his back. He wore a simple brown tunic with no insignia, which hung loose about him, clearly to hide the bulk of the leather cuirass beneath. A broadsword hung at his left side, marking him as right-handed. The scabbard was worn and aged, the same as the man himself, but the pommel of the blade shined in the dim light. If his posture hadn’t given him away, the care of his weapon would have. Whatever his profession now, he was a warrior, trained to fight. Given the circumstances, Sebastian would have guessed bandit was the role the man currently fell into.

  That was until he saw the second rider.
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  A horse much smaller than the first nudged its way into the open as it followed in the path of the warhorse. Atop it sat a tiny slip of a woman, as uncomfortable in the saddle as the warrior was confident. Sebastian wasn’t sure how old she was, but he was certain she was young; younger than he, at least by a number of years. Like the woman in Elizabeth’s camp, she was also pregnant.

  He stared at her belly as it stuck out against the loose riding blouse she wore, the grimace on her face a clear indication of how far along she was. Though not ready to burst, the child had already become a burden to its mother. She remained quiet, her eyes straight ahead, as she kept pace with the man in the lead. The last of their party cleared the bushes behind her.

  Astride another warhorse, though obviously inferior to the first, the man didn’t bother to hide his predilection. His head was shaved as was the custom of most soldiers; a bald scalp easier to care for in the field. He wore his battered leather armor out in the open, and his sword dangled at his hip. It lacked the care of the first, the metal dull and unreflective. Sebastian knew then which of the two was the more dangerous.

  Unsure of what his father intended, the riders not what he had expected, Sebastian waited. He didn’t have to for long.

  Darius stepped from the trees a little way ahead of the group, his approach open and obvious. He held up his empty hands as the horses whinnied, and the lead rider called them to a halt. There was steel in the man’s hand in an instant.

  “Stand aside,” the rider called out as the second drew alongside the young girl, his eyes surveying the woods around them. Hers were wide, locked on Darius, her hands clutching protectively at her stomach.

  “Keep your voice down,” Darius replied. “We wish you no harm, but the Red Guard stalks these woods.”

  The warrior glared, his gaze slipping serpentine to the trees. “Who are you?” The words were quieter this time, but there was no lack of fierceness to them.

  “Just a traveler, and much like you, stumbling across the unexpected.” His father glanced at the girl, his question obvious.

  “Our purpose is our own, as is yours. I’m sure you can respect that.” The man told him, and Darius nodded, avoiding a challenge. “You spoke of Red Guard in the woods. What do you know?”

  “That an army marches at your back.”

  The girl’s eyes went wide, her gaze leaping over her shoulder to look behind.

  The lead warrior sighed as if he’d expected no less. “How many?”

  “It was reported as two squadrons, but the Red Witch travels with her men.”

  “We must go,” the girl told the warrior with a cracking voice, her hands entangled in the reins. She shifted in the saddle.

  “She’s right, Donlen,” the man at the back agreed.

  The warrior revealed to be Donlen growled low, still looking at Darius. “If what you say is true, then I ask a fellow traveler to step aside and let us pass. We’ve no quarrel with you, nor do we want one.”

  The sharp snap of griffin wings drew everyone’s gaze upward. Above the trees the yellowed eyes of the creature glared down at them as it circled in place, the rider on its back following its stare. The soldier called out, his voice answered by the screeching wail of the griffin, its unseen companions crying out from nearby. The air was suddenly filled with a legion of their screams.

  Donlen said nothing, letting his actions speak for him. He reached back and tore the reins from the girl’s hands, kneeing his horse to run. She latched onto the saddle, terror in her bright eyes as her mare was yanked forward. She struggled to stay on the horse as it started, one of the griffins bursting through the canopy toward her. So intent upon their flight, Donlen did not see the beast’s dive. He continued to pull her mount on, straight into the creature’s path.

  Blocked by the trees and the bulk of the warhorse, Darius wasn’t in position to help. His crossbow had been unslung, but he couldn’t loose a bolt without hitting Donlen or the girl. The bald warrior at the back circled in a panic, his steed fighting his control and shying away from the griffin.

  Before he could convince himself not to, Sebastian willed his shield to bear and leapt toward the beast as it neared, swinging low to tear the girl from the saddle. Sebastian caught it unaware.

  He ignored the rider and stepped up under the great wing of the griffin as it blurred by. His quicksilver blade lashed out and cut into the joint connecting the wing to the torso. The creature shrieked as the sword cleaved through. Sebastian felt his shoulder twinge as the griffin veered off suddenly, showering him in a mist of warm blood. The beast crashed into a tree at full speed. The snap of its neck was like the crack of thunder. Its pained screech ended instantly. Strapped to the griffin, the rider slammed forward at the impact, then whiplashed back at an unnatural angle, the dead bulk of the beast carrying them down until both crashed in a heap at the base of the tree.

  The man groaned, a deep, wet sound that trailed on and on, but Sebastian didn’t have time to finish him off; he’d die on his own, soon enough. A second griffin winged through the canopy, turning Donlen and girl back in Sebastian’s direction. The twang of his father’s crossbow echoed through the trees and the griffin’s rider fell to hang dead from the straps. The beast went into a sudden, sharp climb and disappeared through the canopy, leaves and broken branches raining down in the creature’s wake.

  His eyes on the trees above, Sebastian barely heard the screech that exploded behind him. He dove to the ground and rolled as another of the griffins whipped past. Just a foot above him, the stench of it washed over him as though it were a physical blow. He gasped for breath as scrambled to his feet, realizing its path. The bald warrior who’d only just begun to get his horse under control wasn’t as lucky.

  Sword-like talons ripped through his cuirass as though it were paper, a crimson cloud erupting from beneath. His scream was cut short as a second, sharpened paw closed about his face and lifted him into the air by his head. His mount jerked as it was yanked upward by the warrior still caught in the saddle. The horse was free a heartbeat later as the man’s feet were torn from his legs, the bloody remnants still entangled in the stirrups.

  The griffin arced upward as red poured down in a steaming torrent. The warrior’s entrails spilled from his disemboweled guts and uncoiled like a meaty rope, which trailed behind the beast as it returned to the skies. Torn loose by the jagged branches of the canopy, his intestines dropped back to the earth with a wet splash.

  Sebastian turned away, his own guts intent on revolt. As he spun, he saw the remaining warrior and the girl barreling down on him. Before he could move, yet another griffin burst through the greenery. The beast came in too fast, too steep, striking the ground beside the warhorse like a rock tossed from a height, its forelegs buckling beneath it with a sickening snap. Its razor-edged beak sunk its point through the thigh of the long-haired warrior, severing it clean as it opened its mouth to shriek its pain. Donlen tumbled from his horse without a sound, his mount stumbling over him as it fled the thrashing griffin.

  The reins to the girl’s horse still in Donlen’s hands, his weight yanked her mount sideways, and she barely managed to remain in the saddle. Her eyes were wide as she clutched to the pommel and watched the man go down beneath the hooves.

  Sebastian saw the Red Guard rider loose himself from the downed griffin and leap aside to be away from its winging claws. He had barely settled his feet when Sebastian ran him through from behind. The soldier was dead before his body struck the ground. A bolt from Darius’ crossbow pierced the eye of the griffin but an instant later, and it collapsed to join its rider. The echo of its screams still rang in Sebastian’s ears.

  “Get the girl,” his father growled as he loaded another bolt, his eyes on the canopy.

  Sebastian sheathed his blade and ran to her side just as the young girl slid from her horse. Her eyes were glazed as she stared down at Donlen, who lay nearby. His head had been caved in by his horse’s panicked hooves. Sebastian turned her from the sight
and scooped the girl into his arms. She moaned but said nothing, appearing to not even notice Sebastian, looking as though she were in shock. As gently as he could, he carried her at a run back to his father’s side. The guttural cries of griffins roared at them from above, and Sebastian knew the Red Guard foot soldiers would be on them any moment.

  “What do we do with her?”

  “She’s our responsibility now,” his father answered without hesitation. He looked off through the trees and Sebastian saw his shoulders slump. “For as long as we all live, that is.” He pointed. There between the green of the branches, Sebastian spied the obvious wave of red moving toward them. “Give her to me,” Darius demanded as he slung his crossbow across his back. “We need to flee.”

  Sebastian did as he was told and yanked his sword from its sheath as soon as his hands were free. The bitter scent of brimstone washed over them, thick in the air. Darius stiffened and Sebastian knew exactly what the smell heralded: the Red Witch had found them first.

  “Run,” he told his father, his voice like steel. Darius hesitated. “You’ve trained me to fight the witches; trust in what you’ve raised me to be. It’s the girl who needs your protection now. Take her to the resistance camp. I’ll lead them off and find you there later.”