The Silver Sorceress (The Raveling Book 2)

by Alec Hutson

  He paused as Niara raised her hand. She looked sad, he thought.

  “I know, Keilan. But this incident has demonstrated that I cannot have them here. They could accidentally destroy centuries of my labor. I will have my servants return them to Ven Ibras shortly, and you will remain with me.”

  Huddled in the corner of the small chamber where the shrouded creature had left her, Sella hugged her knees to her chest and sobbed. The tingling numbness that had spread through her when those spindly fingers had grabbed her had finally faded, but the memory of the horrible paralysis wouldn’t leave. She had tried to scream, but her mouth would not open, then attempted to will unresponsive legs to kick and arms to flail as she was carried deeper into the island. She had been sure the creature was going to kill her, maybe feed her to another of the sorceress’s monstrous cats, but instead it had dumped her unmoving body in this empty building and then departed, the sound of a key turning in a lock telling her that she was now a prisoner.

  Gradually feeling had seeped into her limbs and she’d managed to crawl to where she was now. The chamber was empty of any furniture or decorations, and the only light came from narrow slotted windows that were no wider than a span. Others had been kept here, though—someone had scratched strange runes into a wall, and also many small marks that Sella supposed were the numbering of days. She tried to count, but she kept losing track as the lines became more uneven and faltering.

  How was she going to tell the others what the doll had told her?

  She jumped at the heavy clunk of a key in the lock, and her breath caught in her throat as the door swung open. One of the cowled creatures glided into the chamber, Nel limp in its arms, and dropped her unceremoniously on the floor. Sella moaned as the back of Nel’s head hit the stone with a crack. As the creature retreated, Sella crawled closer, and she felt a rush of relief when she saw the knife’s eyes darting about the room. Whatever these things had done to her they had also done to Nel. A fractured groan escaped Nel’s lips, along with a little bubble of spit.

  More of the shrouded creatures entered the cell, a pair of them supporting Senacus. The paladin’s feet dragged upon the stone, and his head lolled like he was unconscious—but from his eyes Sella could tell he was aware of what was happening. The creatures released him and he collapsed like a sack of meal beside Nel. Then, without a second glance at the prisoners, the sorceress’s servants filed from the chamber, the door slamming shut behind them.

  “Nel,” Sella whispered, trying to push down her rising panic. “Are you all right?” She shook the knife’s shoulder gently, close to tears.

  “Hng,” Nel murmured, and Sella saw her fingers twitch.

  “Oh!” Sella cried, feeling lightheaded from the flood of relief. “Oh, thank you, Ama. Thank you.”

  “You are a follower?” Senacus slurred as he struggled to push himself to his hands and knees.

  “My mother is,” Sella said, clutching at Nel as the knife slowly began to move again. “Just old habit.”

  “No,” Senacus said, with effort shaking his head. “No, it is good. We will need the Father’s help today.”

  “Why…” Nel began, then swallowed hard before continuing. “Why are we here?”

  A wave of shame washed through Sella. Nel must have seen the guilt in her face, because her hand grabbed Sella’s wrist.

  “What did you do?” she hissed.

  Shame burned Sella. “I… I snuck away from our huts yesterday. I just wanted to see something else on the island!” Tears prickled her eyes.

  “And what did you see?” Senacus asked. Sella turned to the paladin—she did not hear anger in his voice, only curiosity hardened by grim resolve.

  “Just an old house. But I went inside and there were tables with dolls scattered around. I didn’t think the sorceress would care if I borrowed one! So I took one back with me.”

  Senacus blinked in confusion. “Dolls? Surely they can’t be why we were brought here.”

  The tears were running freely down Sella’s cheeks now, and she wiped them away. “No, it is why those things grabbed us. I’m sure.”

  “Why?” Nel’s dagger had appeared in her hands as she struggled to her feet with a pained grunt. The knife approached the door and bent to examine the lock.

  “Because they’re not just dolls,” Sella said, the horror of what she had been told rising up.

  “What do you mean?” Senacus asked, his hand falling upon her shoulder as he gave her a comforting squeeze.

  Sniffling, Sella drew strength from his touch. “They’re people. Or they were. The doll I took from the house talked to me just before those bad things came.”

  Nel turned away from the lock she had been peering inside to stare at Sella like she had gone mad. “People?”

  “Yes. They… they were the sorceress’s daughters. Before they get too old, she does something to them and puts their souls inside the dolls.”

  “Monstrous,” Senacus whispered.

  “Keilan’s mother found the dolls and that’s why she ran away. She knew the sorceress would do the same to her soon.”

  “Are you sure this wasn’t a dream, Sella?” Nel asked, pulling a thin piece of metal from her hair.

  “I don’t think so. It sounds terrible, though. How could anyone do that to their own daughters?”

  “She is immortal,” Senacus said softly. “And has already done terrible things to achieve that.”

  “She is insane,” Nel said, sliding the metal into the lock and jiggling it around.

  “But why even have children?” Sella asked.

  “I don’t know,” Senacus said. “We have to warn Keilan.”

  The click of a lock turning sounded, and Nel let out a triumphant cry. But when she tried the door it was still shut tight. “God’s blood,” she cursed as Senacus stepped closer.

  “There is a magical seal on it as well,” the paladin said, laying his palm flat upon the wood.

  “Then we’re trapped?” Nel asked bitterly.

  “No,” Senacus said, closing his eyes.

  A tremendous crack sounded and the door exploded outward in a maelstrom of broken wood and iron.

  Sella screamed and shrank away, but the paladin only turned back to them with a slightly sheepish expression.

  “My apologies. I do not always know how Ama’s blessing will react when it touches sorcery.”

  Nel dashed to the edge of the destroyed door, shielding her eyes against the light. “I don’t see those creatures. But I know where we are—look, we’re around the other side of the mountain. The sorceress’s home is that way.”

  Senacus motioned for Sella to join him.

  “You two should find a safe place to hide,” said the paladin. “Sorcery cannot hurt me—I will go find the boy.”

  “I can’t stay with you!”

  “You must, Keilan,” Niara said calmly. “Great forces are at work right now in the world. I need you here, by my side.”

  “I saw the future!” Keilan cried, rising to his feet again. “Cities in ruins. The sky broken open. We must stop those demons from bringing down this doom!”

  Niara’s expression hardened. “And how would we do that? Did the Oracle tell you where this cataclysm will come from? How it can be averted?”

  “No, but –”

  “Then we should remain on the island. Continue your lessons. So if what was foreseen does happen, you will be ready.”

  “If we wait, we might be too late!” Keilan leaned closer to Niara, his hands clasped together. “Please, Grandmother. Give me the dagger you made if you will not join with us, and let me take it to Cein d’Kara. She is a mighty sorceress as well.”

  Niara waved his words away. “Impossible. I will need the weapon when I confront the Betrayers.”

  “So you are going to destroy them?”

  Niara frowned, as
if she was unhappy with what she had just said. “I am one of the great powers, as are they. If they truly mean to bring doom to the world then our conflict is inevitable. But now is not the time.”

  “Then when?”

  “Sorceress!”

  Surprise shivered Niara’s face as Senacus’s voice filled the long hall. She rose, twisting around just as the paladin strode through the entrance, his hand on the copper hilt of his white-metal sword.

  “How are you free?” she asked, holding up her hand to halt the Ashen, because the shrouded creature had begun to glide in the Pure’s direction when he’d appeared.

  “Your cell could not hold me,” he answered her, and then his gaze settled on Keilan. “She imprisoned us.”

  “I know, she said Sella stole something –”

  “A doll. The girl found a doll in the ruins.”

  “Quiet!” hissed Niara, and Keilan saw her lash together a complex spell and send it hurtling towards Senacus.

  The sorcery melted away as it reached the paladin, evaporating into nothing. Niara gasped, her anger giving way to shock and horror.

  “What… what are you?” she asked numbly.

  Senacus ignored her and continued speaking to Keilan. “The girl said there was a spirit inside the doll. The spirit of one of this sorceress’s daughters. She said she had been murdered so that her mother would never have to watch her grow old and die!”

  “Do not listen to this madness, Keilan!” Niara cried, her voice shaking.

  “It was why your mother fled this place,” Senacus continued, still talking to Keilan as he strode forward. “She did not want the same to happen to her.”

  “Enough!” Niara flung out her hand and a river of green flame erupted. Keilan had seen this sorcery before—it was what he had summoned when Nel was threatened by the shape-changing monster in the ambush along the Way.

  The fire carved the air, hissing and crackling, only to dissolve just as it reached the paladin. Senacus ignored the flames while he crossed the hall, intent on the sorceress.

  “A paladin of Ama,” Niara said, spitting the god’s name with hatred. The green fire subsided, but she did not lower her arm. With another flicker of sorcery, she compelled something to lift from one of the tables and flash across the room to her waiting hand. It was the dagger of black metal, the red runes carved into its blade burning.

  “Stop!” Keilan pleaded, stepping towards Niara. “Both of you, please stop this madness!”

  His grandmother turned on him, her face twisted in anger. “You brought the Pure into my home?”

  “This is not what I wanted!” Keilan cried. “You must believe me!”

  Senacus had nearly reached the sorceress when a massive shape rose from where it had been curled behind a divan. The red and white tiger stalked forward to come between the paladin and the sorceress, its tail lashing the air and its ears pressed flat against its great head. A rumble like distant thunder came from the cat, and a primal fear swept through Keilan at the sound.

  The paladin’s face showed only grim determination as he drew his sword, but he did back up a few steps to put some space between himself and the tiger.

  “Did your children accept what you did to them?” Senacus asked the sorceress as the cat crept closer, the thick tendrils around its neck writhing.

  Niara’s face was a mask of rage at the Pure’s words. Keilan saw her weave another web of complex sorcery, and a hardened golden light suddenly appeared, sheathing her body like armor.

  “You dare speak to me of child murder?” she screamed, the sorcery she had gathered to herself making the very air in the hall tremble. A row of glass flasks on one of the tables burst asunder and a wind rose, pulling books from the shelves and scattering papers like leaves. “I have seen what you do in your temple! How many have died under the knife in the name of your vicious god?”

  Keilan pushed through the roiling power surrounding the sorceress, desperate to stop this.

  “Niara, listen to me!” he said, but she ignored him.

  He reached out for her arm to try and get her attention and she whirled on him, slashing with the dagger. It grazed his hand, opening up a line of fire just below his knuckles.

  “This is your doing!” she cried, and then he was tumbling backwards, thrown by a great force.

  He struck something cold and hard and fell to the floor in a heap. Whatever it was he had collided with had seemed to shift slightly, and as he struggled to steady his spinning head he heard something shatter. He glanced over his shoulder—he had dislodged the great pearly sphere Niara had been examining when he had entered the hall, and now opalescent shards were spread across the stone. A dark object had been nested inside the sphere, and Keilan struggled to make sense of what it was before a roar from the great cat returned his attention elsewhere.

  The tiger lashed out with a massive paw and Senacus stumbled backwards, away from the flashing claws. He swept his sword in a wide arc, trying to keep the cat at bay, but the beast kept creeping towards him, and it looked to Keilan like the paladin’s back would soon be up against the wall. Niara was moving closer as well, brandishing the dark knife, swirls of light coruscating across the golden armor she had forged. She braided more sorcery together in an eyeblink and a light blossomed near Senacus’s head—the paladin flinched, momentarily distracted, and the tiger did not hesitate. It leapt, enveloping Senacus as he tried to meet it with his sword’s point, bearing him to the ground.

  “No!” Keilan yelled, stumbling to his feet.

  The muscles under the tiger’s red and white fur rippled, the long tendrils of its mane shuddering. He couldn’t see Senacus beneath the great cat… Those claws and teeth, they must be tearing him to pieces…

  Keilan rushed forward, dreading what he would see, but gasped in relief when he realized that the tiger had gone limp.

  It wasn’t moving. Senacus must have impaled it with his sword.

  And there he was, his head so close to the unmoving jaws of the great cat that he could have looked between its great fangs and down its throat. The claws of one of the tiger’s paws had savaged Senacus’s left shoulder and still rested there, but his other arm was free and his hand was desperately scrabbling at the ground. The agony he was feeling was evident in his face, and he panted in short, pained cries.

  Niara screamed in wordless rage and stalked forward, the sorcery she was holding making her silver hair twist and writhe. Senacus saw her approaching and strained to lift the massive cat, his face darkening with the effort, but it was too heavy.

  “Niara, stop!” Keilan yelled at her, willing his legs to move faster. He was too far away, though, and before he’d crossed half the distance she was lifting the dagger over the helpless paladin.

  A flash of movement from the doorway to the hall: Nel, ducking around one of the square stone pillars, light glinting off the dagger she had just sent tumbling towards the sorceress. Niara hesitated as the blade struck her armor of golden energy and skittered away, then gestured contemptuously towards where Nel had hidden herself again.

  A lance of purple lightning erupted from the sorceress, striking the pillar with enough force that a large chunk of it exploded. Without this support, the lintel and part of the ceiling near the entrance collapsed in a rush of dust and shards of stone.

  “Nel!” Keilan yelled, his heart in his throat, but he couldn’t go to Nel as Niara was again poised to bring the dagger plunging down.

  He knew he couldn’t hurt Niara through her wards, but perhaps he could distract her long enough for his pleas to penetrate her anger. Reaching within himself, Keilan grasped for his sorcery, twisting the strands into the pattern she had taught him only yesterday. Blue flame billowed from his hand, arcing towards the sorceress. It splashed harmlessly against her golden armor, melting away into wisps of smoke. But it accomplished what he had hoped, as Niara turned to look at him
. Her arm was still upraised, the curving shard of black metal suspended over Senacus.

  “You would strike at me, Keilan?” she asked bitterly, disappointment and disgust twisting her face. “And to protect the paladin? This abomination? Do you know what his kind has done to those like us?”

  The holy radiance of Ama suddenly filled Senacus’s eyes—he had pulled the bone amulet he wore from around his neck.

  “You finally reveal yourself, creature,” Niara spat, and raised the dagger again.

  “No!” Keilan cried, in desperation unleashing another wave of blue fire.

  Senacus watched the dagger descend with calm acceptance. At the last moment, his hand flashed out holding the artifact of Tethys and pressed it against the sorceress’s bare leg, just above her ankle.

  The golden armor vanished a moment before Keilan’s spell struck.

  The force of the sorcery lifted Niara from her feet and tossed her against the wall, the dagger torn from her fingers. She struggled to her feet, screaming in agony, blue flames crawling along her shimmering dress and silver hair.

  Oh, gods.

  Numb disbelief flooded Keilan as Niara stumbled away from Senacus. Her arms flailed, beating helplessly at the fire that was consuming her… and then she was running through the hall, a blazing blue torch, each step leaving a smoldering mark on the floor… Her screams stabbed at Keilan’s heart.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered to himself. “I didn’t want…”

  Niara Lightspinner, the ancient sorceress who had survived the cataclysms and built this island of wonders, staggered out onto the black stone balcony and toppled over the balustrade wreathed in swirling blue flames.

  His grandmother.

  What had he done? Everything had happened so fast… he’d just wanted to stop her from killing Senacus…

  Keilan was in such a daze he barely felt any relief when he noticed Nel crawling through the collapsed masonry at the hall’s entrance. Her skin looked in places to be a bit blackened, and her hair was definitely frizzier than last he had seen her, but she seemed otherwise unhurt. She saw him looking at her and pointed towards where Niara had vanished, as if telling him to go see what had happened.