The Spring Witch (Season of the Witch Book 2)

by Karpov Kinrade

  After an hour of tracking him, we arrive at a dilapidated barn on the outskirts of a humble farm. I know the owner. We’ve traded barley for coin more than once. There’s no way Lord Tyler lives here.

  But I can’t stop now. We’ve come too far and there’s too much at stake.

  Creeping into the barn, I give the signal for Lent and Sarge to fall back and circle around to guard the opposite exit.

  The barn smells like animals and, in the quiet of night, I hear the sleepy sounds of horses and cows. My fae abilities keep me from making a single sound as I make my way past the stalls.

  The trail is harder to follow in the shadowy darkness, but I don’t dare search for a lantern or light. Using nothing but my own instincts, I search methodically, stall by stall, until there’s nowhere else to look.

  Back outside, Lent hurries toward me. “Well?”

  “He’s not here,” I say, frustrated, confused, and suspicious.

  This doesn’t make any sense.

  “We’ll go up to the house,” Lent says. “Ask the farmer.”

  I nearly shake my head, but Sharon’s words from earlier stick out. She’s right. Being dark fae doesn’t inherently make Lord Tyler evil. But lying to me is another matter. This is personal. I have to know.

  I nod at Lent and he and Sarge hurry away to wake the farmer.

  I hang back, a heavy feeling in my gut. When they return, I know what they’re going to say.

  Sarge speaks first. “The farmer’s never heard of anyone by that name. And certainly no one living here matches the description.”

  “We have no choice then,” I say, ignoring the burn of betrayal in my chest. Lord Tyler is keeping something from me, but just what and why are answers that will have to wait. “We’ll have to do this ourselves.”

  Sarge scowls. “You can’t afford to out yourself,” he begins.

  “If I’m careful, I won’t have to.”

  Lent shakes his head. “Sarge is right. They’ll know it’s the work of a light fae, even if they don’t see your face.”

  “It’s a chance we’ll have to take. I won’t leave Lyra and Tunk in the hands of the dark fae.”

  The sun has risen over the trees by the time we arrive in the village. Early morning vendors roll past us with carts laden with their wares. I feel their curious glances aimed my way and can’t blame them. A woman in trousers and boots isn’t a common sight, especially in town. But there was no time to change, and frankly, a gown would only slow me down.

  When the guardhouse comes into view, I catch Sarge’s eye and nod. He veers right and disappears into the alley where I know he’ll circle around in order to provide me with backup should I need it.

  Outside the door, I hesitate, gathering my strength and calling up my power so that it hums underneath my skin.

  I resist the urge to look behind me where I know Lent is perched on a roof with my bow. If anyone tries to leave to signal the other soldiers, Lent will stop them.

  The knob is cold in the early morning air. But within me, my power is surging hot and ready. I let it come. Already, it’s past the point of anything I’ve used in recent years, and the rush of it leaves me breathless with anticipation.

  When my skin begins to glow, I open the door and walk through it.

  Inside, three guards stand immediately, their eyes widening at the sight of my shimmering skin. Wide-eyed stares turn to narrow-eyed malice as they realize what I am. With any luck, the glow of the power thrumming over my skin has blinded them to my face, but when they grab for their weapons, recognition is the least of my problems.

  “Disarm.” I whisper the word and my power complies.

  Their weapons are jerked from their hands, drawing cries of outrage from them all. They rush at me, shouting as they come, and the power inside me unleashes.

  The walls shake as the boom echoes throughout the space. A surge of magic shoots out of my hands and ripples through the guards, dropping them to the floor. It’s invigorating but at the same time, my heart races with urgency.

  Already, I can feel the power waning. A reminder I’m not nearly powerful enough to sustain an attack like this. Not without the stone.

  Moving quickly now, I rely on my fists and my blade just as much as my magic. One by one, I take down the guards. Some are only blown aside by the repeated blast of my power. Some are immobilized or injured thanks to the sword that cuts through anyone who gets too close.

  At the end of the hall, I find two cells full of weary-eyed prisoners.

  Inside the cell on the right, Lyra jumps up when she sees me, Tunk pressed close to her side. “Kate?” Her eyes are wide as she takes in my current state. The last dregs of my magic still emanate from my skin, but exhaustion is fast taking over.

  I don’t have much left in me.

  Using the last of my energy, I blast open the locks on both cell doors.

  Prisoners file out from both cells. Several of them stop and thank me but most hurry towards the door, wasting no time getting clear of the soldiers who will eventually recover their senses.

  “Kate!” Tunk runs to me and throws his arms around my waist. The contact breaks the last few strands of my concentration, and I sag against him. Lyra grabs me, holding me upright, and I note the bruise coloring her cheek. Her blouse has been ripped along the shoulder and the question is on the tip of my tongue.

  When I meet Lyra’s eyes again, she offers a subtle shake of her head and my shoulders droop in relief. I smile weakly back at her.

  “Thank you,” she says fiercely, her eyes shining with gratitude.

  “Of course,” I tell her. “We’re family.”

  “Family never abandons family,” Tunk says, pulling away to stare up at me with conviction.

  I tangle my fingers in his knotted hair, beyond relieved to see that he looks no worse for wear. “That’s right. Now, let’s get home so Sharon can feed you until you burst.”

  Chapter 7

  I sense something is wrong before we reach our new campsite. A shiver runs up my spine and my senses sharpen even further, as I pause, making the signal for the others to follow my lead.

  No one questions me. We’ve all been through enough to trust each other’s instincts. Exhaustion still grips me but adrenaline gives me a boost.

  I move silently through the thick foliage of trees and tall, winding bushes that curl and wrap around stone and branches and over the dense layers of forest ground. It doesn’t take long to hear the fighting. And smell the smoke.

  Pulling out my bow and knocking an arrow, I approach. Royal guards are attacking the Jolly Jesters, who are fighting back as best they can. One of our carriages is on fire, and it’s spreading to a pile of our belongings that had already been unloaded. It looks like they were attacked mid-way through making camp.

  I gesture to Lyra and Lent to flank the attackers while I find the best position to take aim. Without needing to be told, Sarge drops back to approach from another angle.

  Tunk stays with me as I move quickly. I waste no time aiming and releasing arrow after arrow, hitting each target squarely in the chest.

  As I do, the twins move in, attacking the nearest enemies with agile grace and speed.

  It only takes us a few minutes to finish them off.

  The moment the fighting ends, Lyra and Lent form a group to help put out the fires, while Tunk and a few others begin dragging the dead off to bury.

  Sharon and Sarge run up to me and I sigh in relief that they both appear to be mostly unharmed.

  “We were ambushed as soon as we made it here,” Sharon says.

  Sarge nodded. “From the looks of it, our men were followed. This wasn’t a coincidence.”

  I narrow my eyes as my mind races to put the pieces together. “So we’re not safe anywhere,” I say.

  They both nod sharply.

  “It seems we’ve had more security problems since I met Lord Tyler,” I say, my heart aching with the directions my thoughts are taking me.

  Neither of m
y mentors say a word. Sarge knows about the empty barn, the tracks that led us nowhere, but I can’t bring myself to tell Sharon just yet. It feels too much like a failure on my part.

  “He’s hiding something from us,” I say, finally. “We can’t trust him. And going to the ball with him could be a very bad idea.”

  “How else will you get in if not with him?” Sharon asks. “We haven’t much time left. One more moon, in fact.”

  Right. “But what if I’m walking into a trap?” It’s a mostly hypothetical question, because if tonight has proven anything it’s that this heist has to go as planned. We’ve run out of luck.

  We cannot stay outlaws, which means it’s time for me to step up and take my rightful place before it’s too late for us all.

  “We’ll set a trap of our own,” Sharon says, and the look in her eye makes it clear the trap isn’t a what, but a whom. Me. “The moment he sees you in that dress, he’ll lose his wits. You’ll have him eating out of your hand.”

  I sigh. It’s not the most strategic, but it’s all we’ve got left.

  We spend the next several hours cleaning up camp and preparing to move locations. Again.

  It’s well into morning by the time we set up a new camp, and we are all exhausted. I haven’t even had a chance to take inventory of what we have left, and I’m so dead on my feet, it won’t be happening now.

  Along with everyone else, I grab the nearest blanket I can find and lay down in front of our fire. I’m asleep before my head hits the ground.

  When I wake, the sun is high in the sky, and I know I need to get cleaned up and ready for the ball tonight. This is it. The moment I’ve been preparing for my whole life.

  I take care of my morning business and then look for my dress in what’s left of our belongings. When I can’t find it, a cold dread seeps into my bones.

  “Sharon?”

  She’s at the fireplace prepping an afternoon meal and turns to me.

  “Do you know where my dress is?”

  She shakes her head. “Is it not there?”

  Tunk’s eyes widen and he comes running over. “In all the chaos, I forgot I was supposed to tell you…”

  He’s out of breath and clearly upset, which confirms what I’m most scared of. “What is it, Tunk?”

  “Your dress. It was burned up in the fire. Like, bad burned up. All that was left was this.” He pulls out a bit of ribbon and a few charred remnants of material. I take it from him, trying to calm my racing heart. Even a master seamstress like Sharon won’t be able to do anything with this. One look at her face confirms my thoughts.

  Lyra notices us from where she’s chopping wood, and her face pales. “Oh no, this is my fault,” she says, ax in hand as she walks over.

  I’m so sorry, Kate,” she says. “I feel responsible. If you hadn’t been rescuing me, you could have stopped this attack.”

  Even as tears burn my eyes, I reach for her arm and squeeze it. “Don’t you dare blame yourself. This wasn’t your fault. We all know who’s responsible, and one way or another, tonight, the king will pay.”

  “You will need to find something else,” Sharon says as she glances at the positioning of the sun. “And in a hurry.”

  “There’s nowhere to go. No option left to--”

  “What about your witch magic?” Sharon asks.

  It’s then that the old stories my mother used to tell me before she died come back to me. Of pixies in the forest coming to help light fae in need. They were always tales meant to charm young children, but my mother always seemed so certain there was a grain of truth in each of them.

  “The legends of old hold deep and sacred truths, to those who have the ears to hear,” she would say, her eyes aglow with power. “Never be afraid to believe in the impossible. That is how anything has ever become possible, after all.”

  I close my eyes, savoring the memories as I pull out the ring I wear on a cord around my neck. I bring it to my lips and kiss it, then I turn to Sharon. “I need the brightest berries we can find, a cup of our best wine, and something gold,” I say, hoping the translation of the ancient song my mother would sing after telling her stories also held its own kernels of truth.

  Sharon, Lyra and Tunk hurry off to look for what I need as I prepare myself for the ritual I’m about to perform.

  If the dark fae king knew a light fae still walked his kingdom, he’d be furious. But that is nothing compared to what he’ll do if he ever discovers I have witch’s blood. It’s the only thing he truly fears. And because of that, my witch power is the only element of my birthright magic I’ve refrained from doing these last years. But now, I can’t afford not to. And I’m careful to follow my mother’s old teachings to the letter. This is my last chance.

  First, I bathe in the waterfalls near camp, then I dress in a simple cream shift, leaving my long dark hair down to hang well past my waist.

  Sharon returns first, holding a basket of berries.

  Lyra comes with our best wine.

  And Tunk brings the gold. “It came from Sarge’s tooth. But I can tell it’s real.”

  I cringe a bit, but thank him as I take the three items and a few other necessary supplies and head into the forest that surrounds us. “I’ll be back. Be ready.”

  I’m desperately holding onto optimism and hope. It’s all I have. It is what I’ve been living on since my parents were killed. Since this kingdom fell into the hands of a tyrant. Since my whole world fell apart.

  And somehow, even after all these years, I still have a little left of the hope that has sustained me.

  When I reach a spot that feels right, I set everything on the ground and take my mother’s ring, slipping it onto my middle left finger. “The shield hand,” she would say. “For while you might have to raise your sword, there is no purpose to the fight if you are not protecting others and the way of life that brings light and joy to the world.”

  I feel a small glow of power spark within me, and I smile at the familiar warmth that was passed down from my mother.

  I kneel on the ground and use a stick to trace a circle in the dirt, carved in half with the left radiating rays of sun. The sun and the moon. Light and dark. But always, there is light. With the sun. With the moon. Even in the midst of darkness, the light is never vanquished.

  I place a candle in the center, and using my magic, light it.

  Then I place berries, a small goblet of wine, and the gold at the base of the candle.

  Finally, I pull out the dagger and slash my left palm, letting the blood drip into the candle.

  Holding my hands out in petition, I begin to sing.

  “Pixies of the deepest earth,

  fairies from the forest’s birth,

  Guide my path and bless my fate,

  Come to me, don’t hesitate,

  For I will fail in my quest,

  It’s pixie magic I need best.

  Wine, and berries, gold be true,

  All of this I give to you.

  Blessed be and blessings fair,

  Praise to you, and for your care.”

  I don’t know how long I sit there on my knees, my arms outstretched, my wound clotting and the drops of blood slowing until they stop.

  I am past feeling the ache in my knees, the burn in my shoulders, or the dull pain in my palm.

  All I know is that as the sun wanes, I am running out of time. But I do not give up. I have no other options left.

  It’s a miracle I need.

  And I’m counting on my mother’s wisdom to see me through.

  Before my eyes, the air begins to shimmer, and as the offerings placed by the candle disappear, a form appears before me.

  A beautiful woman floats over the candle, large silver wings stretched behind her, long hair spiraling in waves around her shoulders. Her skin glows in the coming twilight, and her eyes… oh her eyes.

  Her eyes are just like mine.

  I’m stunned speechless as I gaze upon her beauty. My heart aches at the sight of her. I sw
allow through a dry throat and blink through wet eyes. “Mother?”

  It cannot be. It’s impossible, and yet, it is her. Her and not her.

  “My darling,” she says. “I have wanted for this moment for a very long time.”

  “Is it really you? I thought I was calling the pixies.”

  It’s the stupidest thing to say of all the things I could say, but it’s all I’ve got in this moment of complete shock.

  “You called upon the realms of light, which is where I now dwell. Normally spirits of the dead are not allowed to pass over, but they made an exception. For you.” She shimmers in and out, almost transparent, and I have the sense that she doesn’t have much time. That it’s taking a great deal of her energy to do this.

  Tears stream down my face. “I need you. I’ve missed you. So much. Everything has fallen apart.”

  All the years of struggle crash in on me, and all I want is to feel my mother stroking my head as I cry on her lap. But we don’t have time for me to be a child.

  “I have always been with you, my love.” She glances down at the ring on my finger, and I vow after tonight I will never take it off again.

  “Now, we must get you ready for the ball. That is why you’ve called, is it not?”

  My eyes widen. “You can help?”

  She nods, and in her hand appears a wand made of pure light. I’ve never seen anything like it and doubt I will again.

  “You are on the path of the light,” she says. “Though you will encounter darkness along the way, remember this. Not all that is dark is evil. The earth needs the cover of darkness to heal, to rest, to rejuvenate. There are creatures of the forest and flowers of astonishing power and beauty that only come out at night. If a light burns too brightly for too long, it can burn out. We need the darkness to temper the light, and the light to illuminate the darkness.”

  “What are you saying?” I ask. “That I shouldn’t go through with this?”

  She shakes her head. “You must do what is just. But you must also do what is true.”

  With a wave of her wand, her magic flows into me and I feel warmth run over me like water. I close my eyes, and the sensation changes to the feel of my mother’s embrace. I sink into it. When I open my eyes and look at myself, I gasp.