Warrior Witch: Malediction Trilogy Book Three

by Danielle L. Jensen

  Victoria patted my hand. “It’ll work. And perhaps Roland will take care of her for us – he does not handle disappointment well.”

  I was less concerned about that, and infinitely more concerned about the friend I was about to put at risk.

  A flicker of light caught my eye, and I squinted at the opposite side of the pass. “Vincent’s in position.”

  Victoria returned the signal, then said, “Time to send out the bait.” She rested her chin on her forearms, and we hunkered down to wait.

  It didn’t take long. Chris emerged from the trees on horseback, the armband bearing Roland’s modified colors of black, white, and red visible even from where we watched. He stopped, waiting for the three trolls to acknowledge him. Báthory had ceased dancing the moment she’d seem him, and with a lazy hand gesture, she beckoned him.

  My heart was in my throat as he trotted forward, knowing there’d be no chance for him to escape if our plan went awry. Even if she fell for the trick, she was dangerous and unpredictable, and if she decided to harm him out of hand, there was little we could do to stop her. Not without revealing we had trolls helping us.

  Chris dismounted in front of the woman, bowed low, and passed her the sealed letter. She plucked it out of his hand, strode a few paces away and scanned the contents. This was the moment of reckoning.

  The twins, it had turned out, were fine forgers, and it was no difficulty for them to draft a letter in Anaïs’s hand, finished off with Roland’s looping signature – the key to our backup plan. The letter requested Báthory’s presence in Triaucourt immediately for a task that Roland felt required her particular skill set. “She won’t be able to resist,” Vincent had said, signing the document with a flourish, his magical pen disappearing the moment he was done. “She’ll be cautious in her journey, of course. She’s delusional, not stupid. But given that we want her to reach Roland, it hardly matters.”

  “But she’ll have proof,” I said, pointing at the letter. “They’ll know we’re up to something.”

  Vincent shook his head. “The ink’s magic – an illusion. By the time she reaches Roland, it will be nothing more than a blank sheet of paper. She can claim it says all she wants to – they’ll think it’s another one of her delusions. And when they send someone back to the village…” He winked. “Báthory herself will start to question what she’s seen.”

  “She’s smiling,” Victoria whispered pulling me back to the moment. I tensed, watching the troll roll our forged letter and tap it thoughtfully against her chin. Then in a smooth motion, she pulled up the bodice of her dress and stowed the document in her cleavage.

  “Watch over the prisoners, my lords,” she called to the pair watching from their gazebo. “His Highness is desirous of my presence.”

  She took several quick steps toward the path Chris had come from, then stopped, eyeing him for a long moment. “I should make you run ahead of me lest I step on something I might wish I had not.”

  Chris rolled his shoulders, twisting the reins in his hands. Anyone, including the Comtesse, could see he was nervous, and I prayed she’d think his reaction was nothing more than wariness of the creature in front of him. “If that is what you wish, my lady. But I have these left to deliver,” he pulled two more letters from his coat pocket, shaking fingers dropping them to the snow. “And His Highness…” He bent down, fumbling twice before he managed to pick them up. “His Highness–”

  “Yes, yes.” Báthory smirked. “You are right to be afraid, human. And brighter than most to have allied with the winning side early.”

  Not waiting for Chris’s response, she sprinted toward the dense forest, magic carving a path as she made her way down to the coast. The crack and thud of falling trees echoed between the mountains, and we watched her progress until she was out of earshot. “Time to move,” Victoria said.

  Holding onto the back of her coat, I followed my friend down toward the village, trusting that her brother had his illusion in place. The people watching through the walls of their magical prison backed away at our approach, but I held up a calming hand even as Victoria created a faintly glowing set of stairs overtop of the wall.

  “We’re here to rescue you,” I said. “Gather everyone at the center of town.”

  “They’ll see us,” one of the men exclaimed. “They told us they’d kill anyone who tried to escape before their prince arrived.”

  “They won’t see.” I pointed to the oblivious trolls speaking to Chris some hundred yards away. “And if you wait for Prince Roland to arrive, the only freedom you’ll ever know is death.”

  The man blanched, but it was the herding gestures my overly tall companion was making that got them moving. “Gather the animals, too,” Victoria said to the villagers. “Tell them we’ve goats to go.” She grinned and I shook my head at the pun.

  “Are you sure you can do this?” I asked.

  “Don’t undermine my confidence with your doubts. Go dose the people with your potion – the last thing we need is them all running about like frightened chickens.”

  The villagers peppered me with questions as I ushered them to the largest building, the general store. “For courage,” I said, handing a flask topped off with magic to one of the men and watching it pass from mouth to mouth as those in terrifying circumstances were wont to do, aided by a bit of compulsion on my part for those reluctant to partake. For the children, I handed out tiny potion-laced candies that Victoria had helped me make, which they gobbled down, growing silent and still the moment the sweets hit their bellies.

  Victoria leaned in the front door, and I nodded once, going to stand in front of the only window. Ready.

  “Everyone be calm,” I whispered, hearing the wind howl down the mountainside. “We’re going to get you out of here.”

  In hindsight, the potion might not have been necessary, so smooth was Victoria’s magic as she lifted the tiny village off the ground, her actions hidden by her brother’s illusion. But I could see the ground moving away, and I found myself swallowing down a wave of dizziness as the building, and all those around us, rose on a platform of magic to a dozen or more feet off the ground before beginning the long journey deeper into the mountains.

  I held my breath, waiting for one of the trolls to see something, or hear something, but they lounged contently in their gazebo, watching with disinterest as Chris pushed his horse through the snow, fighting to get to safety before the second part of our plan took place.

  The crack was deafening, like a hundred pistols firing simultaneously, but for a second, it seemed a sound without cause. Then one of the mountain slopes began moving.

  At first it appeared a single sheet of snow was sliding, then it tumbled and crumbled, clouds of white rising up into the air as it roared down with deadly force. The gazebo blinked out of sight and the trolls raced toward the opposite slope, one significantly faster than the other.

  The avalanche slammed into the barrier that had surrounded the town, destroying or burying it, I couldn’t tell which, and then it overtook the slower troll. Snow burst up high as he tried to shield himself, but the earth’s might battered his efforts and he disappeared from sight. The faster troll made it partially up the opposing slope before turning. I imagined how he felt: the moment of relief when he believed he had cheated death. Then a tall figure stepped out of nothingness and clamped a hand on the smaller troll’s shoulders.

  We had our prisoner.

  * * *

  It took several hours for Victoria and me to deliver Revigny to its new location, explain the situation to the villagers, and secure their cooperation. The journey to the rallying point took far less time – all of which I spent with my eyes squeezed shut – thanks to Victoria’s fearlessness and a magic sled.

  “Any luck?” I asked Chris, accepting his offer of an arm to steady my still wobbly knees.

  He shook his head. “Not sure if he’s not talking because he can’t or he won’t, but Vincent hasn’t been able to get a word out of him.”
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br />   Given what had happened with Albert, I wasn’t entirely surprised, but part of me had still hoped that we might have gained at least a clue as to where Angoulême was hiding. “I want to try something.”

  Along with Anushka’s grimoire, I’d packed small amounts of the herbs required to perform certain spells, and I took out several of those now, setting them on the snow next to our troll captive. He eyed them nervously, muscles flexing as he tested the magic binding him.

  “I need a bit of your blood,” I said. “This will sting.” Pushing up the sleeve of his coat, I cut across his forearm, ignoring his sharp intake of breath as I held a clay bowl under the stream of blood. Picking up a handful of snow, I tossed it in where it melted instantly, then added the herbs.

  “Fire?” Victoria asked.

  “No.” Dipping a finger into the mixture, I marked his forehead and then my own. Then I tossed the rest of the bowl’s contents up in the air. Little droplets hung suspended like a cloud of rubies, then they began to swirl between me and the troll. I closed my eyes.

  His thoughts came in little flashes. A troll woman smiling. A sword. The waterfall in Trollus.

  “She’s in my mind,” the troll screamed, but I tuned him out and focused. Roland.

  The troll prince appeared, himself, but twisted, as though the troll’s mind saw him for the monster he was. “I will rule,” he screamed. “I will rule.”

  Other trolls were on their knees in front of him, and one of them said, “Death to Thibault! Death to Tristan!”

  Roland leapt to his feet, spittle flying from his mouth. “You do not touch my brother!”

  The offending troll exploded into bloody mist, and I recoiled, unable to separate the remembered screams from the screams happening outside my shuttered eyes. Angoulême.

  The Duke appeared, cane balanced between both hands. “Those who serve our cause will be rewarded. Lands, titles, power – it will all be yours. Will you swear?”

  “Yes.”

  I pulled away from the thought, afraid of triggering one of the Duke’s oaths. Where is he?

  Anaïs. Lessa appeared, dressed in her armor, arms crossed. “All contact with my father will happen through me, do you understand?”

  I pressed harder. Where is he?

  Mountains flashed across my vision, their white peaks glittering in the sun.

  “Cécile, stop!” Someone was shaking me, but I ignored them. I had to find where the Duke was hiding. Lives depended on it.

  What are his plans?

  The light of the mountainscape turned to darkness. But I could hear the Duke’s voice, “Thibault dies first, then…”

  Pain lanced through my skull and I severed the connection, falling back into Victoria’s arms. “What happened?”

  “He’s dead.”

  “How?” I struggled forward, taking in the dead troll and Vincent sitting on the ground next to him, hair drenched with sweat and face drawn.

  “Burned out his light trying to get free,” he responded. “Stones and sky, what did you do?”

  “I dug through his thoughts to find Angoulême,” I said. “He’s in the mountains.” I rubbed my temples, the pain in my head fierce. “Lessa knows where he is. I think she might be the only one who does.”

  No one responded, and when I lifted my face, everyone had drawn away, leaving me alone in a circle of space. “What?”

  Chris twisted his horse’s reins, jaw working back and forth. “Did you learn anything else?”

  “That Roland doesn’t want anyone to harm Tristan – he must want to do the deed himself,” I said, the boy’s rage briefly filling my vision. “And that Angoulême intends to go after Thibault first.”

  “I suppose that’s one less troll for us to kill,” Victoria said, but when I turned her direction, she was staring at the snow, and I found I didn’t know how to respond. I wanted to be ruthless, to pretend that I didn’t care that I’d caused the death of the troll on the ground in front of us. But I did. Just because he was caught up in the Duke’s schemes didn’t mean he’d deserved this fate.

  “This is why we need to find Angoulême and stop him,” I said. “He doesn’t even care about the lives of his own followers.”

  They all made sounds of agreement, but I could feel their judgment. And I deserved it. With one swift motion, I reached down to close the lids of the troll’s unseeing eyes. “Where is our next target?”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Tristan

  The only thing I cared about, the only thing I thought about, was discovering what Winter wanted and how to thwart her.

  Nothing else mattered.

  I surrounded myself with the pieces of the puzzle. What I could accomplish for Winter that she couldn’t do herself. How Cécile’s powers might be manipulated. What I knew of the fey and what I knew of the conflict between courts, because that would be the heart of her motivation. All the foretellings given my aunt over the years, their phrasing, and how we’d benefited. How Summer had benefited. The moves Winter had made since her return; the words she’d said. All these things turned and twisted around me as I contemplated how they fit together.

  I spoke to no one but Souris, who was the ideal companion, as he listened well and said nothing at all, his only demand the scraps from the plates of food Sabine brought at regular intervals.

  They all came and went, talking at me or to each other, and I stored the things they said in the back of my mind in case I required them later.

  Marc returned to Trianon.

  “All he does is play with his imaginary games and jabber at the dog,” Sabine said, slamming my dinner down on the table in front of me. “We don’t even know what he’s doing other than abandoning us.”

  “He’s thinking,” Marc said, wandering through my puzzle while I picked at the roast chicken, setting the greens on the floor for the dog. He didn’t want them either. “And he hasn’t abandoned us – he’s merely focused on the most central problem.”

  “You’ll excuse me if I see it differently,” she said. “He’s left us undefended, and even from here, we can see his cursed brother burning his way through the countryside. There’s nothing to stop Roland from attacking Trianon at his leisure. Pigalle was destroyed when the waves swamped the harbor, plus we have hundreds of refugees who fled Roland’s attack looking for succor. We have to feed them, keep them warm, and he won’t so much as stir from this room.”

  “The situation is dire,” Marc agreed. “But we cannot reasonably expect him to be a solution to every problem.”

  “So what do you suggest? That we leave him to sit here and do nothing.”

  “It’s not nothing,” Marc said, “if he comes up with a solution. But in the meantime, we must hold up our end until he is himself again.”

  “When will that be?” Sabine demanded. “He’s still got two more of those wretched bits of magic.”

  “That might need to be rectified.”

  I patted the pocket containing my seeds, the lump of the handkerchief containing them chasing away the momentary pang of unease.

  “We need to assemble our council,” Marc said. “Fred, Marie, Tips, and whatever half-bloods he feels should be present. They need to be informed that our plan to take down Roland failed, but that Cécile, the twins, and Chris’s followers are working to get as many to safety as possible. We need to keep Trianon secure for those who are here and for those who will come.”

  Sabine nodded. “I’ll fetch them here.”

  As she turned to leave, Marc caught her arm. “You aren’t helpless in this, Sabine. Circumstance has put you in a position to make a difference, if you are willing.”

  “I am,” she said. When she reached the door, she hesitated. “I’m very glad to have you back with us, Marc.”

  My cousin waited until the door shut before turning to me. “Think faster, Tristan. We don’t have much time.”

  I nodded once, then turned back to my puzzle.

  * * *

  They met in the council cha
mbers – five of them, for Tips had brought Zoé. All of them glared at me until Marc came into the room. “Ignore him,” he said. “Tristan isn’t the reason why we are here.”

  “Then I don’t have time for this.” Marie stood.

  “My lady,” Marc said. “I’d ask that you reconsider how your time is best spent. Trianon is bursting at the seams with those who have lost their homes.”

  She crossed her arms. “Do you think I don’t know that?”

  Marc inclined his head. “I’ve no doubt that you do. But the fact remains that they need shelter, and you are in the best position to manage that process. The peerage, I expect, have empty rooms they could fill.”

  “Then order them to open their doors.”

  Marc leaned back in his chair. “You have a more deft touch. Better for them to delight in their own charity than resent being ordered about.” His gaze shifted. “Zoé will watch over your son.”

  “I’m not leaving Aiden in the care of one of you creatures.”

  Both Zoé and Tips stiffened, but Marc raised a calming hand. “Zoé’s power is formidable. If Trianon is attacked, she is capable of taking Aiden to safety. Can you claim as much?”

  Marie’s jaw tightened.

  “My lady, your grievance is with King Thibault. Please don’t allow your hatred of him to color the rest of us with the same brush. We are not him, and even if we were, you have a duty to your people.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” she said, then left the room.

  “Fred,” Marc continued. “I need you to send men out to bring back what grain and supplies you can in order to keep the city fed.”

  “I’m not leaving Trianon’s walls undefended,” Cécile’s brother said, glancing my direction.

  “Tips and his half-bloods will hold the wall,” Marc replied. “With my help.”

  “Not happening,” Fred said. “I’m not delegating the defense of the city to a bunch of miners and chambermaids, never mind that they might just decide to abandon their posts halfway through the battle.”