by Unknown
“Did she conceive?” Talon inquired discreetly.
Stry looked away. “No. LeEtta is barren. Hope for fruitful matings grow paler each year. There simply are no fertile witches to be found, at least for wakens. Odd, the demons don’t seem to have any problems impregnating our females.”
King Darak cleared his throat, his face taut. “Now that Stry has seen fit to join this assembly, may we continue with the business at hand?”
Stry gave a slight bow to his father and the ancients. “I apologize for the delay, Father. I was unavoidably detained. Please continue.”
“Unavoidably detained?” Talon mouthed.
Stry shrugged and grinned. “She required a slow hand.”
Talon rubbed a hand across his mouth, hiding a grin. His brother might sound reckless and unconcerned about the proceedings taking place, but he could be as imposing as the king. Stry knew more about what was happening in their realm than the king and the guild put together.
“Yes. What of the other witch and the illumrof female?” Sage put in, moving closer to his cousins.
The four elders of the guild obviously noted the united, imperial front the two princes and their cousin presented, because their brows raised and they slumped in their seats. Talon grinned. It was one thing to dictate to him and Sage, but quite another to control their future monarch.
Talon nodded approval at his cousin. Sage was several centuries younger than he and Stry, so they tended to be overprotective of their only cousin, just as he was protective of them. They were as close as brothers and sometimes they forgot Sage was a powerful waken, too.
“Oh, hell, why are you wearing that silly patch?” Stry said, blinking.
“The witches love it,” Sage replied in a low voice. “They think it makes me look suave and debonair.”
“I think him looks sexy.” Dinka popped her green head up from Sage’s shirt pocket and blinked.
“Puh-lease.” Talon rolled his eyes at the bullfrog Futhar. “Spare me, Dinka. You think everything about Sage is sexy. You’re prejudiced.”
Dinka snickered and stuck her tiny webbed feet over the top of Sage’s pocket. “Hmmm, not everything, though he pretty hunky for waken, but wrong color. He needs be nice and green with big—”
“Hush, Dinka.” Sage laughed as he tucked her back inside the compact pouch.
She popped her head back up. “Was gonna say big eyes, big, yellow eyes.”
“Stay.” Sage shook his finger at her and pushed her inside the pocket.
“Hush, Dinka. Stay, Dinka. I not trained dog, my Sage,” she huffed. “I not jump through hoops. Not roll over, play dead possum in here.”
Sage grinned, his pale eye sparkling with laughter, but he sobered as he returned his attention to his cousins and the elders.
“I don’t believe Talon should decide if the witch’s spirit is removed or not,” Black Drayke shouted, clearly infuriated by the idea, and determined to get the conversation back on track.
“Your objection is duly noted,” Darak replied. “There’s no call to shout. This is a civilized meeting, as such, conduct yourself accordingly.” He pounded the scepter on the table and glared at his sons and nephew as thought they were the ones who’d shouted.
Talon frowned. Beside him, he felt Stry tense.
The ancients leaned together once again, their whispers low.
King Darak propped his arms on the table and tilted his head at an angle closer to the council members. Finally, he looked up and stared directly at Talon. He didn’t bother to hide his displeasure with whatever decision the guild had reached.
“Come forward, Talon,” his father ordered.
Talon moved to stand in front of the round table. His heart caught in his throat. He had no idea what the ancients were up to, but it hadn’t set well with his father.
“You shall be granted a month to study the witch and make your decision,” Darak announced.
“No,” Black Drayke yelled. He stormed across the room, fury in every stride.
Darak held up his hand for silence. “You dare to argue with the guild’s final decision?”
“No, Your Majesty.”
Darak turned his attention back to his son. “Understand, Talon, this isn’t a privilege granted to many. Make the most of the time you’re given. And remember, the elders expect a weekly report of any instances of this witch’s power being out of control. You must keep us informed.”
Talon nodded, waiting for the blow he knew must follow. The ancients never gave without taking something back.
Katch rose to his feet, as imperial and majestic as a Bird of Paradise. “I’ve decided there are limits to this freedom granted you, Talon.”
Talon blinked. He couldn’t remember Katch making such an announcement before.
“If after a month you can’t find it in your heart to take the witch’s spirit, then you will Handfast with her.”
“What,” Talon exploded. “For the love of–” He stared at the wizard, horror warring with disbelief. Handfast with an Impure? Mate for life? Despite his attraction to Saylym, no way did he want to Handfast with any witch, let alone an Impure.
“This is my decision,” Katch said. “No one will set it aside.” He peered at the other members of the guild and the king in one brief flash of his burning gaze. “Is that clear?” He dipped his head in a slight nod to Talon and returned to his seat.
Talon felt too stunned to speak. That the wizard should order such a thing was…was, well it simply wasn’t done. A prince bonded to an Impure? He glanced at his father and saw the anger reflected in his face. As powerful as his father was, he couldn’t change the High Wizard’s command. Darak might be king, but Katch was the Supreme Commander of Ru-Noc.
For the gods’ sake, that the sorcerer should even suggest–ahh, now he understood. Between them, they had cornered him. They knew he wouldn’t Handfast with Saylym because of her bloodline. Therefore, he was honor-bound to steal her spirit or stand down and allow Black Drayke to do the job. Impossible. They thought they’d neatly boxed him into a corner, and they pretty much had.
He looked at his father, and saw triumph and…surely not sympathy? No, never that, not from his father. Talon glanced at Black Drayke and recognized the gleam in the cold black eyes. The warlock was certain he’d never accept the ultimatum delivered by the High Wizard. Hell, his own father was certain. Damn them all to the Underworld.
“If you refuse to accept the terms,” Darak said, “then step down. Black Drayke will be sent to take the witch’s soul.”
Talon swore violently. He glowered at the High Wizard, furious. “What if this witch refuses to bond with me?”
Katch gave a slow smile, a baring of teeth. “She has no choice in the matter. However, if you want to save her spirit from exile, I’d suggest you work quickly to convince her. You’re a waken, persuade her.”
“Heed this warning, Talon,” Darak interrupted. “You do not have the luxury of dawdling or giving her a choice.” For a moment, he hesitated, then continued, “Consider this carefully, Talon. I realize this is tantamount to lighting a fuse to your temper, but she’s merely a half-breed, an Impure; if all else fails, use force.”
“As I’m being forced, Father?” Talon felt as frozen as the chips of ice coating his voice.
Darak shrugged. “Those are your choices. As for the other witch and this illumrof,” he turned his gaze upon Sage, “the ancients have decided you will steal the witch’s soul or Handfast with her. Since this illumrof is a partner and friend with the witch who owns the pastry shop, you’re likely to run into both of them at the same time. You’re assigned to kill the illumrof as well.”
“Two? You expect me to terminate two at once?” Sage’s face darkened with rage. “That’s absurd! What about Stry? He can take one of them.”
Darak shrugged one shoulder. “One is but an illumrof female. She should not be troublesome for you at all. Snap her neck and be done with it. Stry will be busy with another assignment.”
Stry brought a clenched fist down on top of the table, rattling drinking glasses and sending the elders into a tizzy of alarm. They jumped with surprise, gasping.
“I want the same right granted to Talon to decide for myself if she deserves spirit removal,” Stry stated. “A healer, Father? Really? You’d have me terminate a such a person?”
“I have rights, too,” Sage announced, moving to stand beside Talon.
Talon directed his gaze at his cousin. “You want rights,” he said out of the corner of his mouth. “Want.”
Darak hesitated before sighing. “Very well. The guild has faith in the three of you and expects your decisions to be prompt and wise enough to protect us all. But there can be no unwarranted sympathy for these witches. No mercy for the illumrof. Is that understood?” He gave the three of them a hard look. “With rights come responsibilities. Remember that. If you are unable to decide or follow through with the assignments, then Black Drayke will be given the task.”
Darak regarded Stry and cleared his throat. “Since this witch is a self-proclaimed healer, you might try searching the herbal shops in Sanctuary. She likely dabbles with healing plants. You all have a month, then the mating season ends and you will be banished from Sanctuary. Remember, you will terminate the witches’ spirits or Handfast with them. Along with the rights you demand, come these choices.”
“There’s no choice at all Father, and you well know it,” Talon accused.
Katch rose to his feet, his face flushed red. “Talon! You’ll change your tone to one of respect when speaking to any of us. There’s no point in being angry with your father. This was my decision, not his. You’ll Handfast with this witch. This is my wish. The only other choices are to steal her soul or allow Black Drayke to finish the job.”
* * * *
Darak sighed, his troubled gaze following his younger son as Talon turned on his boot heel and swept out of the chambers. His stricken gaze met that of his heir. Inwardly, he flinched at the censure he read on Stry’s face.
“I know what you’re all up to, Father, and with me, it might work. You can bend me. I won’t break. I don’t believe in love, so therefore my emotions won’t be involved with this Nyra Winters. I might hate it, but I can do my job if necessary. I’ll find and terminate her as the elders command.” He sighed and met his father’s gaze. “Talon is different. He remains steadfast in his beliefs. If you continue in this dictatorial manner with him, you’ll completely destroy him. Can you all live with that?”
Darak frowned. “You think there’s no give in Talon?”
“I know there’s no give in my brother. Talon will break, Father. You’ll drive him away. You already have. I think you know this.”
“You know your mother and I would like grandchildren. We would also like to see our children settled with bond mates.”
Stry nodded. “I do believe we can provide you and Mother your heart’s desire without you forcing a bonding on us. Bonding’s a lifetime commitment and should be our decision.”
Darak reddened. “We prefer to welcome the mother of our grandchildren into the bosom of our family. Go after your brother. I’m certain you both will wish to bid Helayne farewell before you take your leave.”
Stry nodded, locking his fingers around Sage’s arm and pulling him along with him. “Come on, One-eye. Let’s see if we can soothe Talon’s savage temper.”
Sage snorted.
Dinka poked her head up. “He one crafty waken. Sneaky, too. He remove patch, he have use of both him eyes.”
“Dinka,” Sage warned with a tolerant laugh. “Go to sleep.”
“Humph. Dinka not sleepy, like listen in case sex discussed. Maybe learn new positions.”
“Dinka!” Sage sounded outraged, but Stry knew the waken enjoyed the Futhar’s antics.
“All right, already, my Sage. Don’t get pantyhose in wad.”
Stry burst into laughter at the sheepish expression that crossed Sage’s face. “Pantyhose? You wear pantyhose?”
“Hell no,” Sage shot back, punching Stry on the shoulder as his cousin choked back laughter. “She’s been sneaking into the illumrof realm and watching movies. She sucks up mortal sayings like a straw.
“Dinka like watching x-ray movies.”
“X-rated,” Stry corrected.
“That’s what Dinka said. Like watch x-ray movies about sex. Like seeing naked, human man with big coc—”
“Hush, Dinka,” both wakens shouted.
“Humph. Think Dinka pretty doggone smart to watch sexy, x-ray movies. One day when Dinka find mate, will keep him verra happy.”
“Shut-up, Dinka!”
“Hush, Dinka! Shut-up, Dinka! All I ever hear.”
Chapter Nine
Martha Corey and Rebecca Nurse were chosen to be examined before Magistrates Hathorne and Corwin.
~Salem Witch Trials
March 21-24, 1692
Page Entry…
For the next century, Leyla ruled Sanctuary with the fair and kind hand she was loved for. She met Katch whenever time permitted. Then another Beltane arrived.
Zoman, furious when he learned Basheena had been burned at the stake in the woods by an unknown source and his son Black Drayke, had vanished, blamed Leyla for his loss. He forced his way inside the queen’s private chambers, used her brutally, and in a blind fury, took her soul. The one certain death for a witch, besides fire, is going through soul separation. The witches all knew Leyla would never rise from the sadistic attack.
Chaos and panic at the loss of their beloved queen left the witches floundering in sorrow until Shy-Ryn took over her mother’s throne, as was her right of the next royal blood female in line.
Shy-Ryn’s first act as the new queen was to order the death of her cruel father. Zoman, taken prisoner, was burned at the stake in the village square of Sanctuary. His sons, Kran and Black Drayke watched from the edge of the crowd. One son swore revenge. The other smirked with secret pleasure because he’d managed to carry out the death sentence he’d long ago cursed his parents with. Black Drayke savored the sight of Zoman burning, just as he’d enjoyed hearing his mother’s screams when he lit the brushpile around her.
Since the evil waken could not be found and had not been seen by the coven, Black Drayke was presumed dead, or else he would have been burned at the stake alongside his father.
~Pages of history from the Winslow witches.
In the Year of Samhain, 1250
Ru-Noc
Droth
City of the wakens
After leaving the Wakens’ Council Hall, Black Drayke decided to take a long walk. “Damn them, they ruined my plans,” he complained aloud, spitting curses in the air.
All was not going as he’d intended. He hadn’t anticipated Katch’s damnable interference or the guild giving Talon, Stry, and Sage such choices. Frustration blackened his already cankerous soul and left a noxious smell in his wake.
Butterflies dropped from the sky like autumn leaves, their wings fluttering weakly as life drained from their fragile bodies. He grinned. He enjoyed being a warlock instead of a waken. True, he’d had to dabble in the Black Arts to make the change, but he embraced it and the new powers it gave him.
The guild was terrified of his new abilities. So was King Darak. He felt their fear, smelled it on them and he savored their weakness. Soon, none of them would be in his way anymore.
Even though he knew MeLora Haven, his lover, would be anxious for his report, he wasn’t ready to return home. It’d do the witch good to wait for him for a change and wonder what he was d
oing.
After his abrupt dismissal by the guild, rage churned inside him. It festered and grew, consuming him with urgency only one thing could cool…a frenzied mating. He needed a witch to vent his abuse upon, to suck her soul from her body as he spilled his seed within her womb.
He knew MeLora was not that witch. Not now. For his plans to succeed, he still needed her. But MeLora was like an insect, one that devours its mate after the mating session ended. He couldn’t trust her, any more than she could trust him.
Mating with MeLora might be like harnessing bolts of electrical energy—a sizzling ride — but he was never quite certain he’d live to savor the release afterward. When he fucked her, he always felt like a male Mantis religiosis about to get his head bitten off during copulation. The strength of her powers was daunting. She toyed with him, and like a love-sick fool, he kept going back for more, despite his apprehension.
That only increased his fury. He didn’t like to be made to feel uncertain but he wasn’t willing to risk MeLora’s rage. Not now, when things were reaching a crucial point and his dreams were at last close to fruition.
So for now, he’d find another and vent his wrath on the unlucky witch. His skin crackled with the snapping energy racing inside him. There were plenty of witches in Sanctuary. The mating season was upon them.
There was always a witch who didn’t use caution or stay off the streets after dark. It was a hapless time for the witches, a time when they were slaves to their own needs to procreate. He turned in the direction of Sanctuary. Maybe he’d seek out this bungler of magic Talon was so enamored with and make a play for her himself.
“Saylym is mine,” he promised himself. “I’ll see Talon staked and burned before he has a taste of that witch.” He clenched his fists at his sides. “I swear it to the dark god.”