by Unknown
“Hey, where ya goin?’” Sage called.
Saylym kept right on walking, ignoring Sage’s cry.
“Where’s she goin?’” He turned to Eldora. “She’s making herself a target. She can’t do that—can she?”
Eldora shrugged. “Get that stupid eye-patch off so you can see what’s happening.”
Sage swore softly and jerked off the patch. “I forgot I’d put it on.”
“Uh-huh.”
Right before his eyes, Eldora’s features softened and changed into that of a middle-aged woman. “Holy sheeahta! You’re not an old crone anymore.”
“What was your first clue?”
“Dinka help with rescue, too. Have fun saving the day.” The frog stuck her little nose over the top of Sage’s shirt pocket. “Want to help.”
“Dinka,” Sage growled, “stay down and out of sight. That witch will blast you into another dimension.”
“Humph. Dinka not scared of floozy witch MeLora!”
“Well, I am. So stay down.” Sage cleared his throat as he turned his attention to Saylym. He frowned as he saw her cup her stomach in a protective gesture. He turned back to Eldora. “Two of the little guys? Double Talons? All right! I’ve heard twins are common in the mortal world. Guess some of what we’ve been told about our history isn’t exactly accurate. Twins! I’m going to be an uncle!”
“I thought you are Talon’s cousin?” Eldora said, sounding confused.
“Cousin? Uncle? What the hell? I’ll be like an uncle to the little tykes,” Sage declared, a sheepish grin on his face. “Twins. I can’t believe it.”
“MeLora Winslow,” Saylym shouted.
Sage and Eldora both groaned.
“She’s going to get herself killed,” Sage said.
Eldora nodded. “Perhaps. We shall see.”
The crowd went absolutely still at Saylym’s unbridled nerve.
“She one brave witch,” Dinka said. “I bet she fight like wild tiger.”
MeLora rose and faced the young witch standing in the street. A smirk twisted her lips. She spread her hands on her hips and laughed. “Why, Saylym, darling, what have you done to your hair? And you’re all dressed up for a party. Did you lose something? Like a mate? And it’s Haven. I changed my name.”
MeLora turned her back on Saylym, the ultimate insult to one bearing royal blood.
“Good,” Saylym yelled. “The Winslow name’s too damned good for the likes of you!”
“Start the flogging!” MeLora ordered the royal guards, ignoring Saylym’s comment.
“Don’t you dare touch the prince,” Saylym screamed at the guards. Her attention was caught by Talon struggling to get free of the chains.
“Saylym.”
She flinched. His voice sounded like a croaking frog. His lips moved, but his words were swallowed by the noise of the crowd. She moved closer to the podium, eyeing the king. The man was like a zombie seated upon his throne. He stared vacantly into space, his eyes dark and empty.
“Leave here,” Talon croaked.
“She’s hexed your father,” Saylym said as she finally pushed her way through the crowd to the podium where Talon stood. “Are you all right?” Her words were quiet, for his ears alone.
Talon dipped his head in a brief nod. “You’re endangering our sons,” he said between clenched teeth. “You have no right to risk their lives. Get out of here!”
Saylym arched a brow. “So you know about the babes? You want them?”
“Don’t be absurd. Of course, I know about them, I’m a waken. Wakens know these things. And yes, I want them with all my heart. Do…you?”
She looked down, slid a palm across her stomach. “Yes.” Looking back up, she stared at Talon. “Our sons will need their father. I’m not leaving you here to die.” Saylym tried to hide the hurt she felt. Talon might want his sons, but he hadn’t said anything about wanting her.
“Don’t turn your back on her. She’s evil,” he said abruptly.
Saylym hesitated at the hot rage in the greenish-gold depths of her husband’s eyes.
“She’s related to you,” he said. “I thought for awhile you and she planned this together, but I realized you couldn’t do such a thing.”
“No,” Saylym replied. “And yes, we are cousins. I had no idea I even had a cousin.”
“She and Black Drayke contrived to murder my mother and seize control of the crown.”
Saylym tilted her chin, aware of the hurt washing over her face. “How could you believe, even for a moment, that I’d do something so evil? I swear to you I had no idea of their plans. But allow me to return the favor. Were you involved in the conspiracy to terminate my soul?” Because she already knew the answer, she turned away before he could reply. Unfortunately, in turning her back on him, she also turned her back on MeLora.
Talon swore. “Don’t turn your back on her,” he yelled.
Rage stirred within Saylym. She whipped around. She was furious with her husband, and he was damn well going to have to crawl to win her back. She felt like putting a hex on him, changing him into a jackass, maybe.
Still, she’d heard the pain in his voice at the loss of his mother. He’d voiced concern for her, his mate, despite his suspicions. Damn it. Against all reason, she loved this man. She didn’t know if she could ever forgive him for the lies he’d told her or the things he’d done to her without her consent, but she still loved him.
Maybe after he did a lot of begging she’d forgive him. He belonged to her, and by the gods, as Talon was fond of saying; no one else was going to harm him.
But how was she going to free him from those damnable chains?
She reached for a chant, but could find none. Instead, she felt the weight of invisible shackles around her wrists and arms. She shook her hands instinctively. The chains binding Talon dissolved, freeing him. She turned and walked away from him.
Saylym glanced over her shoulder at the crowd’s gasp, and saw Talon, free and unfettered, tumble on to his rear. She smiled. Now that was totally cool, in so many ways.
MeLora shrieked with outrage and raced toward Saylym. She halted a few feet away from Saylym, swept her arms in a circular motion and drew a ball of fire into her hands. She flung the flaming ball straight at Saylym’s back.
“Look out,” Talon warned.
Saylym twisted around, an eyebrow arching at the speeding fireball.
Sage shouted a warning as well. He leaped toward her, grabbing her and shoving her behind him, blocking the ball of flames.
The crackling and snapping of electrical energy rent the air, terrible in its power. The flaming sphere slammed into Sage’s chest, knocking him backward into Saylym. They both crashed to the hard ground.
Saylym wiggled her way from underneath Sage’s still body. “Sage!”
Her bottom lip quivered. Sage didn’t move or open his eyes. A blackened circle of smoke spiraled upward from a gaping hole in the center of his chest. A low groan slipped past his blistered and charcoaled lips. He clutched his heart, his big body quivering.
“Had to save you,” he whispered. “You…and…the little ones.”
Swirling red, blue, and silver lights circled overhead, surrounding him, whirling faster and faster, until the air sizzled with intense heat. Chains of white-hot electricity crackled and popped. Then a loud whoosh exploded, and Sage vanished in a puff of smoke.
“Sage,” Saylym screamed. “Sage!”
“Don’t child, he’s gone,” Eldora said sadly.
Saylym doubled over, consumed with grief. She knew this cousin was dear to her mate. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“He is no more,” MeLora announced and threw back her head, laughing deeply in her throat. A fanatical gleam lit her dark eyes as she abruptly flung a second fireball. It blazed a fiery path toward Saylym’s head.
Saylym had only a fraction of a second to react. She flung up her hands, fingers pointing out. Emerald mist blasted from her fingertips, freezing the fireball in mid-air. It cr
ashed to the ground and shattered into thousands of pieces of sparkling ice chips.
“Ahhhh!” spilled from the awe-struck crowd.
Talon tried to stand up, but he staggered, too drained of his powers even to stand up straight. MeLora whipped around and blasted him with an electrical current. Talon jerked, groaning as the burning charges hit him smack in the chest. His knees buckled and folded out from under him. He collapsed back upon the podium like a bag of wet cement.
“You bitch!” Saylym flung a bolt of fiery energy toward MeLora. Screaming, MeLora whirled and ran, hunkering down behind the king and his throne. The burst of energy slammed into King Darak, knocking him off the throne. He fell near Talon, his eyes closed, a trickle of blood spilling down his chin.
“Dad!” Talon crawled toward his father.
“Don’t touch him,” Saylym screamed.
MeLora jumped up, flinging bolt after bolt of electrical spears at Saylym.
Saylym flinched as one of the spears struck her shoulder, searing her skin. She staggered back and fell on her butt.
For one despairing moment, for one hideous eternity-stretching instant in time, she yielded to the belief of others. She was indeed a bungler of magic. She couldn’t win this battle.
“Saylym,” called Talon, agony in his voice, not for himself, but for her. “You’re a witch, sweetheart. A royal witch. Get up off your ass and fight! I believe in you! Believe in yourself!”
She nodded, drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly. She did believe in herself. Not because of his words, or his sudden faith in her, but because of the power that budded, then blossomed, flowering inside her.
Saylym rose to her feet, ignoring the raw ache burning her arm. She was not a bungler. She was a witch. A royal witch. And that bloody Wicked Witch of the West had better start praying for a bucket of water.
Concentrating all her energy on where MeLora stood, Saylym let an icy smile settle on her lips. The tingle started in the pit of her belly. It traveled up her spine and into her brain, building and building. Her body trembled. She felt the vibrations escaping through her fingertips and her toes. Around her, the wind howled, gathered in strength, so strong it nearly knocked her over as it rushed toward her.
The ground beneath her feet moved, buckled inward, and then belched upward, before settling back in place to roll beneath her feet like a giant tidal wave.
A deafening crack of thunder boomed. Saylym held up her arms and loudly chanted.
“I call on the Powers of the Earth, Moon, Sun, and Stars.
I call on the Elements of Earth, Water, Air, and Fire.
To all witches who have passed and those yet to come.
Hear me, come to me, help me drive this blade home.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
I having six children and having little or nothing to subsist on and being closely confined can see no otherwayes but we shall perish. Therefore may it please your Excellencye your poor and humble petition’r doe humbly beggye to take it into yo’r pious and Judicious consideration that some speedy course may be taken w’th me for my releasement that I and my children perish not.
Petition:
~Elizabeth Faulkner, Sr.
Salem Prison
December 3, 1692
Sanctuary
Saylym balanced the athame in the palm of her hand. Slowly, she released her hold and the blade hovered in the air, anxious to do her bidding. She whispered a command and the athame flew straight at MeLora, spinning end over end until it reached its target. The blade buried deep in the evil witch’s shoulder, the hilt vibrating from the intense force of the blade piercing bone.
MeLora screamed. She clawed at the hilt, wrenched the dagger free, and tossed it at Saylym, cursing at the younger witch.
Saylym held her ground. When the athame drew close, she reached out her hands and blasted the knife with frosty ice from her fingertips. The athame froze in mid-air. Saylym grasped the blade, and gently blew on it. The ice melted and dripped to the ground. “Next time I’ll send it straight through your black heart,” Saylym said quietly. “You do not rule here, MeLora Haven. You will never reign here. Take your leave or die!”
* * * *
Suddenly the slow, whump-whump-whump of heavy wings flapping filled the night sky. Black Drayke hovered above them, a giant monstrosity in the heavens, raised from the pits of Hell. His face morphed into the evil, grotesque mask of a gargoyle.
His black eyes glittered with hatred. He landed upon the earth, and focused his hatred on Talon. “I took your mother’s soul,” he sneered. “I sucked her dry and left her withered husk lying on the floor. Now I’m going to steal your mate’s spirit. ”
Talon surged upward, roaring his grief. His heart, beaten and bruised so many times in the past few days, finally shattered, and his soul filled with hatred for this one creature who had once been a warlock.
He leaped off the podium and grabbed for the demon, but Black Drayke was wise enough to stay out of his reach.
“If you think for a single moment,” Talon growled, “that you’ll leave here or ever rule Ru-Noc, then you’re an even bigger fool than I thought.”
Black Drayke folded his wings in place. Talon watched the crowd move back, terrified at the sight of such a repugnant creature among them.
“I’ve tasted your mate,” the monster shouted.
Talon’s gaze shifted to Saylym, questioning. She shook her head in denial. He gave a slight nod of understanding.
“I’ve suckled her sweet breasts. She bears my mark. Ask her. Better yet, see for yourself.” Black Drayke grabbed Saylym and rent her dress down the middle, exposing her breasts.
Talon arched an eyebrow. “I see nothing on my mate to indicate you’ve ever been near her, Black Drayke. What mark are you talking about?”
Black Drayke hissed and took a second, closer look at the slopes of Saylym’s breasts. He cursed, shoving her away from him. “A witch’s trickery! She has but removed my claim of ownership.” Black Drayke stroked his heavy erection. “I have been inside her, deep inside her. I touched your sons’ souls and ripped them from the belly of their mother. Your mate now carries my seed.”
Talon roared, lunging toward Black Drayke.
“Talon,” Saylym screamed his name and flung the athame toward him. Talon’s fingers closed around the hilt in mid-air. He shoved the blade upward, underneath the warlock’s chin. The knife went deep into the cavern of his head.
Black Drayke staggered backward and crashed upon the ground. Shock etched his face and he clawed wildly at the athame. The blade was stuck in bone, he couldn’t remove it. His dark gaze centered on Talon, filled with years of burning hatred, years of jealousy and envy.
He coughed. Noxious black blood spewed from his mouth. “I have been inside your mate,” he choked, laughing. “You will never be certain if her babes belong to you or to me.”
Talon jerked the knife from Black Drayke’s throat. “You think I know not when you spew lies? I know the babes are mine. Burn in Hell! For all your evil sins, spend eternity in Nemaland! Dym has just the place for you.” Talon drew the sharp blade swiftly across Black Drayke’s throat, severing the artery. “For my mother, you son of a bitch!”
The evil warlock gurgled, clutching his throat. His body gave one long spasm, then stilled.
Talon wiped off the athame, his eyes tracing over the bruises on Saylym’s face. He held out the athame. “I believe this belongs to you.”
He saw the cool reserve in his mate’s eyes, the quiet dignity in her stance. He understood. She carried the poise and grace of a royal witch on her slender shoulders. And she’d never looked more beautiful.
* * * *
Saylym took the athame from his hand and slid it back inside its sheath strapped beneath her dress. Touching the ripped bodice of her dress, she mended it instantly, covering her breasts. A tiny smile flitted across her lips, and she felt it lighting the odd colors of her eyes. “I just want you to know, milord, so there will never be any dou
bt between us, I’m a witch.”
She stood her ground, facing him, and finally accepting her birthright. “I’m a witch…and a damn good one.”
“I know, baby,” Talon whispered. He reached for her, pulled her into his arms. “You just had to learn how to harness your power.”
MeLora screamed her rage, her clothes falling away. She leaped upward, then dived straight at Saylym, hissing and snapping her sharp fangs.
Saylym stepped back from Talon and tilted her chin toward MeLora. “Come and get me, bitch, if you dare!” She flung up her arms, sending a swarm of bees at MeLora. The bees attacked, stinging the witch on her face and arms. MeLora screeched her rage as she plummeted to earth, crashing upon the ground some distance from Saylym.
“This isn’t finished,” she screamed, slapping at the bees until they dropped to the ground, dead.
“You’re right.” Saylym glared at MeLora.
Twin beams of radiant white light shot from Saylym’s eyes and slammed into MeLora’s chest. The witch’s screams could be heard over the roaring light as she whirled and ran toward the forest surrounding Sanctuary. The powerful beam of light lifted MeLora into the air and spun her around like a cyclone.
Saylym reined in the beam of energy and MeLora tumbled toward the earth. The crowd snickered at her terrified shrieks as she crashed on the ground in an ungraceful sprawl.
MeLora didn’t hesitate. She jumped up and took off—streaking through the woods as if Death himself was after her.
Saylym spun around, examining the ground where Sage had vanished earlier. She saw the Futhar bullfrog lying there on the ground and knelt beside the frog. “Oh, Dinka.”
Dinka’s four little legs pointed straight up in the air, her poor body rigid in death. The tip of her tiny pink tongue lolled lifelessly to one side of her mouth.
Helpless, Saylym gently stroked a fingertip down the pale, soft belly. “I’m so sorry, Dinka.”