by S A McClure
Spellbreaker
The Valka Chronicles Book 1
S.A. McClure
First Rule of the Coven…Never Break Another Witch’s Spell
Spellbreaker
The Valka Chronicles Book 1
Written by S.A. McClure
Edited by Rainy Kaye
Cover Design by Jennifer Munswami of J.M. Rising Horse Creations
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Spellbreaker © October 2018 by S.A. McClure.
All Rights Reserved.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Chapter One
Emmaleigh
Emmaleigh Valka always hunted alone. Mist plumed from her chapped lips as she released a silent breath.
Chandeliers of ice hung from trees, sending dancing rainbows across the snow-covered ground. It reminded her of the stained-glass windows the artisans in Forale had created. It was a gutting shame Grandmother Rel hadn’t allowed her to purchase one of the smaller panes of glass. Of course, Grandmother Rel didn’t believe in frivolous things. She always said that was the reason she refused to use her powers to keep herself young and beautiful.
None of the other witches in Grandmother Rel’s Coven allowed themselves to age a day past twenty. But no, Grandmother Rel conserved her magic and let herself become a haggard, crone of a woman in the process. Her craving for power far outweighed her love for Emma or her sister, Iris. Since the day she’d rescued them from the forest and taken them in as her ‘granddaughters,’ she’d chosen herself over their needs.
It was one of the reasons Emma hated the witch, even while she felt beholden to her for rescuing them from certain death.
The crunch of ice under heavy footfalls prickled Emma’s senses. She crouched lower, her back pressing against the tree behind her. Snowy owls hooted and wind rattled against frozen branches. Closing her eyes, she tried to pinpoint exactly where she’d heard the crack of ice breaking.
Her stomach growled, loudly. She drew her bowstring back and prayed for the Light to deliver them food. They hadn’t eaten meat for nearly three months now and Grandmother Rel was beginning to become cranky.
Emmaleigh’s muscles trembled the longer she held the bowstring taunt. Licking her lips, she waited. Still, no creature—not even a rabbit—wandered past her. Cursing, she lowered her bow.
A piercing roar echoed through the forest. Emmaleigh dropped her bow and covered her ears as the deafening sound overwhelmed her. Her very bones seemed to shake.
Emma plucked her bow from the ground and raced through the trees. Branches snapped at her face, but she paid their lashings no heed as she sprinted towards Grandmother Rel’s cottage.
The roar bellowed again, this time closer. She yelped as her foot caught on an upturned root and she face-planted onto the icy forest floor. A sharp twist of pain shot up her leg as she gingerly removed it from the root. She prodded at her ankle and winced. Cursing, she tried to stand. She thudded to the ground, her knees taking the brunt of the fall.
Branches and ice snapped behind her. The creature snarled, rendering silence through the forest. It was close. And her damn stomach growled again.
This is the time you decide to make noise?
She imagined she could feel the heat of the beast lumbering towards her; see its steamy breath forming clouds of smoke. She couldn’t run, though she was only a short distance from the safety of Grandmother Rel’s cottage. Tears froze to her cheeks. Chiding herself, she brushed the frost away with the back of her hand. If these were to be her last moments alive, crying wouldn’t solve any of her problems.
She groped for the bow she’d nearly forgotten. Her fingers trailed across the jagged, broken wood of the lower limb, where it had snapped during her fall. Snot dribbled from her nose as she peered down at it in dismay.
A thought occurred, and with a shrug, she flung its shattered remains away from her. The dull thump of its mass hitting the ground and a tuft of snow followed. She stiffened, praying her ploy would work. Holding her breath, she waited. Her hands were numb from the cold and her leg throbbed.
The sound of massive paws crunching against the ground met her ears. She stifled a cry of alarm as the stench of the beast enveloped her. Its scent reminded her of spoiled meat left in a too hot sun. She wondered if the beast had ever bathed before. She doubted it. Despite her desire to cover her nose, she forced herself to keep her hands locked in place. She didn’t know how the creature tracked its prey, but she did not want to draw its attention to her.
“Emma?” Her sister’s voice carried from the direction of the cottage.
The beast let out a guttural cry as it bounded towards her sister’s call. Every nerve in Emmaleigh’s body went rigid as she imagined the creature attacking her sister. She tried to call, tried to warn her sister, but her voice caught in her throat. Scrambling, she clawed at the frozen ground. Her nails cracked and blood pooled at their ridges. Her palms barked at the pain of being thrust upon the jagged shards of ice protruding from the ground. She bade her pain little heed as she crawled towards her sister’s voice.
A scream.
Emmaleigh’s heart seemed to stop. She waited to hear her sister cry out in fear. Waited to hear the beast tear into her sweet, caring, naïve sister.
Her stomach tightened and she frantically crawled towards where she thought the scream had originated. Her breathing came in uneven heaves. She didn’t care if she was making too much noise now. She didn’t care if she drew the beast’s attention. As long as she saved her sister, it would be worth it.
“For all that’s eternal,” she murmured as she pulled herself over a rotting log, “please let her still be alive.”
Hot blood slid down her fingers. Her lips trembled as she tried—and failed—to still her breathing. In the distance, close to where she’d heard her sister cry out her name, the beast rummaged. Her heart hammered in her chest. Her head drummed. Her sister couldn’t be dead. She wouldn’t let it be true.
“Iris,” she croaked, her throat raw. She took a deep breath as she lugged herself across the ice-ridden terrain. “Iris!”
There was no answer.
Tears streamed from her eyes. She attempted to pull herself onto the top of a small ridge, but her arms gave out just as she caught a glimpse of fur and the stench of rotten meat before collapsing onto the forest floor.
Something wet and rough scraped across her cheek. She cringed at the touch and shrank away from the thing that still lingered on her hand. She knew without looking it would be a tongue. Knew from the carrion scented breath that puffed against her hair at regular intervals.
“Emmaleigh?”
Her eyelids fluttered at the sound of her sister’s plaintive voice. Yet, she couldn’
t bear to open them, lest the dream dissipate.
“Emmaleigh?” her sister asked again.
She felt the ground shift downward as her sister knelt beside her.
Iris ran her fingers through her hair and cupped her cheek as she asked, “What happened?”
Emmaleigh jerked her head up and glared at her sister through slit eyes.
“What happened?” she spat. “Didn’t you see it?”
“See what?” Iris asked, her birdlike voice quaking at her sister’s tone.
Emmaleigh swatted Iris’s hand away as she peered around the forest. Birds chirped as they hopped from frozen branches. A squirrel darted into a tree hollow. Snapped branches littered the ground. Slants of sunlight split the otherwise gloomy air.
Her eyes lingered on a massive depression in the snow mere feet from where she sat. Her gaze slid back to her sister.
“We need to go home,” she croaked. “Now.”
Iris’s pale cheeks filled with color as she studied Emmaleigh’s face.
Emmaleigh pointed towards a sturdy looking length of wood. “Get that for me, will you?”
Iris scurried over to the wood and brought it back to her.
Using it as a brace, Emma rose from the ground the way a phoenix does from the ashes of its demise. She shivered as a cool blast of air pressed into her. There was a storm coming, and she did not want to be caught out in it, injured as she was and without a weapon.
“Let’s go,” she commanded. She squeezed Iris’s hand before carefully stepping over the fallen log. Her ankle ached at the movement, but there was no more time to waste.
“Promise me you’ll explain when we get home,” Iris whispered.
Emmaleigh cocked her head in her sister’s direction, but said nothing as she ambled through the forest. Each step felt like a thousand knives being thrust into her foot, the pain shooting up her leg. She ground her teeth to stop herself from crying out. She hobbled forward.
Where did the beast go?
Every sound echoing through the trees put her on edge. It was out there somewhere.
The hurried footfalls of her sister padded behind her.
“Let me help you,” Iris said before slipping her arm under Emmaleigh’s.
Iris’s warmth flooded her, cutting back on the chill seeping into her bones. They continued onward in silence. It was difficult, painful work. Despite being twins, Iris was considerably shorter than Emmaleigh, which resulted in Emmaleigh stooping down to take advantage of her sister’s support.
“There was a bear,” she said, at length. “Well, at least, I think it was a bear. It all happened so fast. I’m not so sure.”
Iris clutched Emma’s side, drawing her in closer. “It’s unusual for bears to be out during the middle of winter, Emmaleigh.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t see anything,” Iris continued.
“But I did,” she cut in.
Silence fell between them again as they navigated through a particularly treacherous section of the forest floor. Emma stumbled as she stepped over a larger branch blocking their path. She prayed to the Light that one of Iris’s potions would be able to heal her ankle before she needed to return to the woods.
“Is it possible you were having a daydream?” Iris asked.
She shrugged, as much as she could, stooped down and nested against Iris.
“You are more of the dreamer than I am,” she said. Her words were clipped, and she knew she sounded harsh.
“I don’t understand.” Iris’s breath came out in a mist.
They didn’t talk for the rest of the distance home.
Emma could still feel the tingle of the bear’s tongue on her hand and smell its rancid breath. It had been too real to be an illusion, a dream.
From a distance, the cottage looked like a simple wooden building built into the side of the mountain. Flower boxes lined each of the small windows. In the twilight hour, the windows were like cat eyes shining in the darkness. Smoke curled above its solitary chimney.
It appeared smaller than most of the other cabins in the area inhabited by the Dramadoonians, but Grandmother Rel always insisted on maintaining the appearance of being a frail, old woman living in the woods with her young daughters.
Emmaleigh counted the steps as she climbed onto the porch. One. Two. Three.
Her mangled ankle screamed in pain as she finally crested the top step and shoved the door open. She fell onto the ground, unable to support herself any longer.
Groaning, she pushed herself up in time to see Grandmother Rel rise from her perch at her spinning wheel. Her wrinkled, sallow skin pulled into tight folds as she sneered down at her.
“Emmaleigh,” Grandmother Rel hissed as she turned back to the wheel. The gentle thrum of the spinning commenced.
Hag.
Emma pulled herself farther into the cabin. The door slammed shut behind her as Iris entered their home. She stepped over Emmaleigh without looking at her. Emmaleigh rolled her eyes at Iris as her sister bowed her head towards Grandmother Rel. She always had been the boot licker of the two.
“Grandmother,” Iris said, her voice as sweet as the honey they collected each summer.
Grandmother Rel kept spinning. She barely seemed to notice Iris at all.
“Grandmother,” Iris repeated. She took a step towards the wheel. “Will you show me how to make a potion to mend bones?”
Grandmother Rel did not respond. Instead, she began humming to herself as she continued to spin the wheel. Vibrantly colored thread coiled on the floor beside her.
Emmaleigh watched in horror as Iris raised her hand and caught the wheel. The gentle thrumming stopped, as did Grandmother Rel’s humming. Grandmother’s eyes slid to Iris. They glowed a shimmery gold color, a black sliver dividing them into halves.
“Emma is hurt,” Iris said. Emmaleigh expected for Iris to quake beneath Grandmother Rel’s glare, but her voice remained steady as she continued, “She shattered her ankle during the hunt. I know we can make a potion to heal her. Show me how.”
Grandmother Rel licked her lips and stared Iris down. Movement flashed in a blur as she raked her nails across Iris’s face. Blood spurted from the three wounds where Grandmother Rel’s claws met Iris’s soft flesh.
“No!” Emma screamed.
Iris didn’t waver. She just stood there, her hand still resting on the spinning wheel, her gaze locked on Grandmother Rel. Streams of blood slithered down Iris’s cheek. Tears mingled with the blood, but Iris did not even utter a moan as Grandmother Rel ran her fingers over her wounds, smearing the blood across her face.
“Stop it!” Emmaleigh pleaded.
Grandmother Rel raised her hand once more, the claws glowing gold as they lengthened and curled into sharp points. Emmaleigh continued to beg. She knew her words fell on deaf ears. Not once, in all their years spent with the witch, had Grandmother Rel ever heeded Emmaleigh’s pleas.
“Please, Grandmother, train me.” Iris’s voice cut through the air like a sword through lace.
Emmaleigh crawled towards them. Each time her ankle knocked against the ground, she whimpered in pain. Still, she kept crawling.
Grandmother Rel ran one of her long nails along Iris’s other cheeks. Her lips pulled into a lopsided smile when Iris did not flinch from the touch.
“Very well,” she said as her nails shrank back into their shorter, but still deadly, claw form.
She stood and strode across the room and pressed her palm flat against the stone wall. A glowing doorframe appeared around her, just large enough for a single person to enter. It slid back into the wall, revealing their true home beneath the mountain. Emmaleigh sighed in relief as she watched Grandmother Rel descend into the darkness beyond.
Iris released her hold on the spinning wheel. Wordlessly, she ripped a length of cloth from her blouse and pressed it against the wounds on her face. Emmaleigh wanted to say something, wanted to provide comfort the way her sister always did for her when she defied the old hag, but noth
ing came to her. She wasn’t soft spoken and kind, the way Iris was. She wasn’t tender. She was a fighter. She was a huntress. She was a warrior.
“That cloth looks dirty,” she managed to say as Iris turned to follow Grandmother Rel through the doorway.
“I’ll have Grandmother clean it for me,” Iris responded. Her voice sounded so flat that Emma found herself doing a double-take of her sister.
“You know how hard infections are to fight,” Emmaleigh continued, “even with your powerful potions.”
Iris sniffed, her blue eyes flashing as she said, “I think I know better than you how infections work, Emmaleigh.”
Emmaleigh’s mouth fell slightly ajar. In all their seventeen years together, Iris had never snapped at her.
“Once we’ve healed you, you’re going to have to tell me exactly what happened out there. No holding back this time,” Iris continued. She laid a hand on Emmaleigh’s shoulder and squeezed, “I’m sorry,” she murmured.
“Sorry? You have nothing to be sorry for, Iris. If it hadn’t been for you…”
“I should never have let you go into the woods alone.”
“What do you mean?” Emma asked. “I always go into the woods alone.” She peered at her sister. Iris’s cheeks were still flushed and there was a wild, frightened look in her eye. Her slim shoulders trembled. “Iris, what are you not telling me?”
Her sister squeezed her shoulder before turning and walking towards the still open hidden passageway into the mountain.
“When you’re healed,” Iris whispered as she crossed the threshold, “we’ll tell one another everything.”
Before Emmaleigh could respond, the doorframe glowed its golden hue before sliding back into place. She lay on the floor, her ankle aching and her mind swirling with everything that had happened. Whatever it was she hoped they would be able to face it together.
Chapter Two
Emmaleigh
Emma must have fallen asleep. Silvery moonlight shone through the window. The fire had died in the hearth and she shivered as she peered about the dim room. Nothing had been disturbed since her sister and Grandmother Rel had disappeared into the depths of their mountain home.