The pain stole the strength from her limbs, and she grunted as she rolled onto her side. Her body twisted and quaked as it began to shape shift.
The weight of her wings grew too much for her to hold up away from her body. They might as well have been two lumps of dead flesh for all she could move them. Then with another body spanning shudder, her wings vanished, pulled back into her body in one quick and extremely painful surge.
Shape shifting hurt. It always had. But this made the first few times seem easy.
Her jaws ached from clenching them, but the alternative was crying out in pain and that might distract Gregory from the spell. She’d already caused enough trouble, she wouldn’t call down more.
Besides, with that mighty power riding him, she wasn’t sure if that was really Gregory. He stood, head bowed and wreathed in shimmering, flame-like magic. Even over the distance, she could feel the cold magic of the Spirit Realm flowing outward from where he stood, feeding the spell, which was presently controlling her change.
Her gargoyle features vanished and left her weak and shaking in the smaller body she’d known far longer. Though, at this exact moment, her dryad body seemed no more in her control than her gargoyle one had been.
She continued to shake and quiver for a good minute. Slowly her limbs regained feeling and strength, and she sighed in relief when they moved at her command.
Blinking, she found herself curled in a fetal position. The earth was soft under her, and its scent was reassuring. She didn’t want to move, but forced herself back to her hands and knees. Only then did she realize there was still magic sliding through her, examining her. It shifted from the center of her chest upwards until it settled in a circle around her neck. The tingling increased.
Threat or warning?
She didn’t know but breathed a hardy sigh of relief when the power moved on. If the power wanted to kill her, surely it would have done that at the first touch. No, the magic seemed more interested in studying her, which gave her no comfort whatsoever.
The magic continued to coil through her blood, a seemingly random examination.
She was just acclimatizing to the chilled presence when a tendril snaked lower and touched her womb with its insubstantial fingers. There it paused, as if it found something of great interest.
Lillian shivered at the power’s creeping touch, and fear re-awoke, rocketing her to new levels of dismay.
No, please, no.
It was just one stupid time.
Oh, come on. I can’t be pregnant. Besides, I’m not the Sorceress. It doesn’t matter.
The magic didn’t shift from its quest for knowledge and continued to scan her womb, but she didn’t sense any increased hostility.
Would she even know if the magic was hostile? It wasn’t like it was a thinking, reasoning being.
But Gregory was.
Presently, he was acting as a conduit for that power. Was he aware of what it learned?
Several heartbeats later, the magic flashed back up and gave her tattoo one final prod. The probing search lasted longer than she liked, but after another chilled touch, the power disappeared.
In its wake, she was left weak-kneed and very, very cold inside, like her spirit had taken a chill.
Slowly, her pounding heart eased its frantic tempo and warmth returned to her body.
With a half-conscious gesture, she reached to finger the skin of her throat. Disappointment rose within her at the feel of the raised brand. That it was still there came as no real surprise, for if it was that easy to get rid of, Gregory wouldn’t have been so angry.
But she was alive. And a quick survey showed all her injuries healed. That was something.
The gods didn’t smite her after all. Gregory looked equally whole. As she watched, he reached for his own brand, then he fisted his fingers and let it fall back to his side. Maybe she wasn’t the only one with that small, naïve hope.
Turning away before her gaze caught his, she studied the power as it continued to flow farther out from its magical epicenter. Wherever it encountered one of the Fae, the winds would spin and whirl until, with a little burst of magic, the accompanying healing spell would migrate to the next nearest Fae. In counter point, wherever the power touched upon a Riven’s body or a spot of tainted blood, the magic would lick along it with pale blue flames until all was consumed.
Others were still gaining their feet after the initial surge of magic had tossed them on their asses. Lillian’s little brother was one, and seeing him move in a stiff and awkward manner, she hurried to his side. A soft, but otherwise happy whine greeted her.
After giving him a once over and examining the smooth skin where the blade had been, she enfolded him in the best bear hug she could manage now that she was once again a much smaller dryad.
Her eyes turned to her father to find River already there, bending over him, checking for injuries. That they had both survived gave Lillian some hope that she might one day explore those family bonds to see how deep they ran, and if a relationship was even possible. But unlike with her brother, she had no urge to go and hug either parent.
They were strangers. As was her brother, she supposed. But there was something very engaging about Shadowlight, his friendly openness melted even the most resigned heart.
A shift in the flow of magic against her skin alerted her that Gregory’s spell was winding down. In its wake, all were healed and the bodies of the Riven had vanished. Strange though it was, she could still see the broken underbrush, torn up grass, and smell the scent of crushed vegetation where the individual battles had occurred, but the blood and gore were absent. Slowly, other things seeped into her consciousness. While the Wild Hunt still milled around Lillian and Gregory, awaiting direction, a quick tally showed that their number had decreased.
Killed in battle or killed by Gregory’s magic?
“All who ran with us were loyal. Only the dead and those too far gone to be healed are gone, free to journey to the Spirit Realm. May they have a long, peaceful rest before starting the journey of life once more.”
Lillian looked around, disconcerted for another reason. She didn’t know the members of the Wild Hunt, not personally. Though they clearly knew each other.
What if she’d lost friends or family she’d known for years. There one minute and then gone the next. No chance to say goodbye. Nothing of the physical left to shed tears over, no burial for a final goodbye. Wiped clean off the earth by divine power in the space between heartbeats.
Gregory had called to that mighty power and he’d received an answer. She’d seen greater shows of power from him; he’d told her all along what he was, what she used to be: an Avatar.
And avatars belonged to their gods. But those same gods somehow belonged to their avatars, and couldn’t or wouldn’t deny Gregory that power, even when it was clear he had been compromised by the brand of enslavement.
They would grant great power in the name of the Light, but Tethys had taught her that truth, duty, and her human moral code were not always on the same page.
What Gregory was capable of had never been as real to her as it was in that moment of clarity. What he was. Such a beautiful, horrifically fierce power she now commanded. She’d never felt so tiny, or completely inadequate in her life. Somehow she had to release him from the influence of the brand.
That barely contained force must never belong to the Lady of Battles. Her earlier conviction was based on more personal reasons. He was her friend, beloved companion, the other half of her soul. She wanted to protect him out of her love for him, their sense of duty to each other.
Those were romantic reasons, but there was a far more deadly and far reaching reason why she couldn’t let them fall any further into the Battle Goddess’s manipulations.
Both she and Gregory could be the greatest threat the universe had ever encountered—because even with the Battle Goddess’ slave collars around their Avatars’ necks, the Divine Ones still shared their power.
Gregory’s
little experiment proved that.
“You finally understand?” he asked as he padded over to her on all fours. “The Divine Ones love all they create. They would not destroy the Lady of Battles even when her war with her twin threatened to tear apart the Magic Realm. They love us no less—in essence we were their first born. It seems they will not or cannot deny us their power. I had expected as much, but hoped otherwise.” Gregory fell silent as he fingered his tattoo.
Lillian fidgeted with her meager clothing, adjusting the ties so they wouldn’t fall off her smaller dryad frame. “I do understand why you see Tethys as a better choice than trusting my biological parents. And I would not have used these cursed collars knowing what I know now; however, I would have still fought the siren and attempted to free you or died trying.”
Gregory acknowledged her comment with a nod.
A soft swish of long grasses in an unfelt breeze and the shifting of shadows announced when her father joined them. “I am truly sorry for our part in your current predicament, First One.” Her father bowed to Gregory. “I failed to find the secondary spell hidden in the intricacies of the outer casing. My failure is a stain upon my honor.” He tilted his muzzle toward the night sky and waited, his vulnerable throat exposed.
Lillian saw her mother’s looked shift from concern to terror.
Gregory huffed out a sound of mild contempt. “Considering where you spent the last twenty or so years of your life, I can only imagine that this most recent failure is just one of many stains upon that honor.”
Darkness stiffened, but held his position, waiting for the killing blow.
Then Gregory raised a hand and patted the other gargoyle on the shoulder, surprising her father, and everyone watching, into a group flinch. “It is not for me to judge you. Though I can only imagine what choices you had to make to protect those you love. Ultimately, I owe you and your dryad mate for siring my beloved.”
Her father sighed softly. “There are a number of mistakes I am not proud to own up to, but Lillian and Shadowlight will never belong on that long list.”
“We all make mistakes,” Gregory agreed. “I have committed more than my share in this lifetime already, and no doubt will make many more.” His tone darkened, “But should you attempt to betray my trust, know that I will set both you and your mate before the Lord of the Underworld’s throne. As a personal favor to me, he will grind your bones under his hooves until they are dust.”
The pooka trotted up to Gregory and rubbed is head against the gargoyle’s shoulder in what could only be called a loving manner. Gregory met Lillian’s gaze while absently returning the pooka’s show of affection with a good scratch along his neck, just under the fall of his mane.
A soft whine pulled Gregory’s gaze away from hers as he tracked the sound. Lillian wasn’t the only one disturbed by her love’s fierce ultimatum. Shadowlight paced closer to Gregory on all fours, and whined a second time, his tone a clear plead.
Gregory’s expression softened, and he reached down and ran his fingers through the smaller gargoyle’s mane. “Be at ease, young one. Your parents will not betray me of their own free will. But it had to be said as a promise and a deterrent to anyone here who would betray me.”
Shadowlight’s ears perked back up, and he licked at the older gargoyle’s fingers, happy and reassured once more.
While she was glad Gregory wasn’t going to indiscriminately execute members of her family just yet, recent events had ensured that she wasn’t quite as young or trusting as she’d been six months ago, so she wondered what his next move might be. However, the night was chilled and so was she now that she was merely a dryad again. Deciding that was excuse enough, she covered the six feet separating them and bumped her shoulder against Gregory’s until he took her under the shelter of one wing.
It had been a hell of a night and it still wasn’t over. They needed to find Gran and then deal with Tethys.
Gregory held her close and pressed her cheek against his chest. His heart thrummed out its deep, familiar rhythm. She listened to the sound and let her eyes drift close.
Bliss.
Chapter Thirty-Two
“There are still other Riven headed toward Tethys’ location,” said a voice Lillian identified as her father’s.
And just like that Lillian was tossed back into the here and now. She straightened to stand taller as she faced her father. “Tell us all you know about the Riven. We know they came from the Magic Realm, likely at the fringes of the Battle Goddess’ domain. My understanding was that only a few were able to follow Gregory’s trail here after he rescued me from the Lady of Battles. Those ones I killed, or thought I’d killed, when they tried to sacrifice me for my magic three months ago. Yet now it seems like their numbers are greater than ever before.”
“Yes, you are correct on all counts,” River said. “But we must explain on the way or risk having the Riven score a victory.”
With a rumble of ascent from Gregory, and a nod in the general direction of the waiting Fae, the Wild Hunt shifted back into its deadly, predatory readiness.
Gregory glanced at her smaller form but didn’t say anything about what possible reason the magic might have had for stripping away her gargoyle form.
But Lillian could guess. There were no female gargoyles for reasons not fully known to her. As such, she was somehow in violation of the natural laws, and apparently the Divine Ones didn’t care for the new look.
While Lillian woolgathered, the rest of the Wild Hunt had moved off a little ways, leaving only her parents and little brother in their immediate area. As she watched, her brother vanished into the shadows, his trajectory taking him toward the head of the hunt.
Her gaze returning to her mother, she found the other dryad already mounted on Darkness’s back. She sat on him like it came naturally to her. Well, she probably had lots of experience.
Her parents did another of their silent exchanges, which she couldn’t fault them for since Gregory utilized that gargoyle trait frequently, but it did leave her wondering what they discussed. Apparently, she wouldn’t have to wait long for an answer since Darkness approached her location less than a minute later.
When he was a stride distant, River reached out and handed Lillian a long knife, hilt first. Lillian took it after a slight hesitation. On a closer examination, she decided ‘short sword’ was a more adept description for the lethal looking blade. She looked up from her study of the blade to find her mother holding out a second blade, a twin to the one already in her hand. From out of the air, River produced an accompanying shoulder harness with scabbards for the two short swords.
Lillian’s eyebrow rose at the show of magic. If she wasn’t mistaken, River had been drawing on a handy bit of Darkness’s gargoyle magic. Later, she would question that relationship in more detail. By the slight tremor in the tip of Gregory’s one ear, he planned to do the same thing.
With a bit of instruction from her mother, Lillian was able to wiggle into the harness and secure the blades so they would come free easily, but wouldn’t bump against her back when Gregory ran. Throughout the whole exchange, Gregory merely looked on with what Lillian couldn’t mistake for anything other than approval.
Her sword skills were limited to fencing, and these were slashing weapons, their weight and balance nothing alike, yet it still felt good to have the weapons, rather like she had a purpose. Which brought her to her next challenge as she eyed Gregory’s back in dismay. He’d conveniently dropped to all fours and arched his one wing out of her way so she could mount with ease.
She only hesitated a moment before she mounted in silence, but inwardly she mourned the loss of her gargoyle body. After all, she felt so much more secure when it was her own feet doing all the work.
Alas, the day hadn’t gone her way so far and wasn’t likely to start now.
Leaning forward, she wrapped her arms around Gregory’s neck and prayed she didn’t fall off. He leaped forward, her father and brother taking up flanking positions, a
nd then Gregory was out in front of the Hunt, leading them back toward civilization, the siren, and most probably a whole host of Riven rabid for blood and magic.
A tendril of familiar power brushed her mind a moment before Gregory’s essence joined their thoughts. “It’s good to have you on my back again. Do not misinterpret my words, you made a lovely gargoyle, but I missed my dryad.” His tone held hints of his old self, which she hadn’t heard since before he’d been taken by the siren.
“It’s good to have you back, too. I’ll figure a way to get us out of this mess.”
He twisted enough to brush a quick gargoyle kiss against her shoulder. With her arms around his neck, it was the only part of her he could reach. “We’ll work together to solve this. I think that is where we have failed. We each keep trying to do things apart, to protect the other, but that is what allows harm to find us.” Gregory paused and then glanced back to where the rest of the Hunt ran at their heels. “The Lady of Battles may have made a mistake with the collars, for in tying us even closer together neither of us will be able to get into trouble without the other knowing.”
Lillian laughed. “That’s one way of putting a positive spin on winning the shitstorm sweepstakes.” She pressed a kiss to the back of his one shoulder, then straightened up enough so she could twist her upper body and look behind. She met her mother’s gaze.
River gave a slight nod and then whispered something in Darkness’s ear. In reply, he lengthened his stride and came along side Gregory.
Lillian tilted her head in River’s direction. “You said you would tell me more about where the Riven are coming from, and why they’re headed back toward the spa if they’re not interested in Tethys.”
Sorceress Rising (A Gargoyle and Sorceress Tale Book 2) Page 23