Everwylde

by Donna Grant

  John drank deeply from his goblet and leaned back in his chair. “I learned my lesson. I admit, I thought Randall would put up more of a fight.”

  “He saw what I can do,” Sybbyl stated arrogantly.

  John leaned toward her and put his hand behind her head to draw her close. “You make me ache with need,” he said before kissing her.

  Ravyn rolled her eyes at the scene. The two made her sick to her stomach. But then again, anyone who joined with the Coven made her nauseous.

  “I love the authority you command,” John said between kisses. “It makes me hard. No other woman has done that to me.”

  Sybbyl shoved him back into his chair before she pulled up her skirts and straddled him. “I can feel how much you want me,” she purred.

  “Please, let me inside you. I need to feel you.”

  “Is that your idea of begging?” she asked, raising her chin.

  As soon as John laid Sybbyl on the table, spread her legs, and knelt between them, Ravyn turned away. The sound of the chair being shoved back and then Sybbyl’s moans reached her.

  Ravyn was beyond irritated. She wanted more information, not to hear the two having sex. But she wasn’t going to stand around and listen to them. She would explore on her own.

  It took only a little while before she found the master chamber, but Lord Randall wasn’t there. She did a quick search of the room to see what she could find, only to come up empty-handed. Not that she’d expected to find anything.

  She sighed because she knew there was only one other place for Lord Bryce. The dungeon. She backtracked and used another set of stairs that took her to the lower levels. Halfway down, the sound of approaching footsteps caused her to race back up the steps to hide.

  Finally, she made it to the kitchens, where the servants were too busy to notice her. She stole a piece of bread and a block of cheese that she hastily ate while making her way through the castle. After that, she found another set of stairs that took her to the dungeon.

  Ravyn listened for anyone before she put her foot on the first step when someone grabbed her from the side and yanked her into the shadows.

  Instinct immediately kicked in, and she fought them, but strong hands held her. Just as she was about to slam her head forward into her assailant’s face, she heard her name from a voice she honestly never thought to hear again.

  Carac.

  “What the bloody hell are you doing?” he demanded.

  That one sentence confirmed her theory about him in the forest. There were many replies she could give him, but she lifted her face to his, meeting his green gaze.

  He pulled down her scarf as they stared at each other in the faint light of the torch several feet away. He shook his head, his expression a cross between relief and exasperation.

  “This is the last place you should be,” he told her. “Sybbyl has ordered that you be found and brought to her.”

  At this, Ravyn smiled. “I’d be more than happy to go. I planned to confront her anyway.”

  Carac shook his head again and wrapped his long fingers around her arm before hauling her after him. Ravyn allowed him to lead her. She could have gotten away. She didn’t know why she went with him, only that she wanted to.

  When they entered a small chamber, she found Margery already there with another man. Ravyn removed her crossbow and set it on the table in the center of the room before she faced Carac.

  His gaze raked her from head to foot and back again. Then he glanced at the other man. “This is Simon, my best friend and my right hand.”

  “Sir Simon,” Ravyn said. She then slid her gaze to Margery, who gave her a small nod. “This is Margery, my friend and equal. Margery, this is Sir Carac.”

  Everyone looked at the other, then Ravyn faced Carac. “Why did you stop me?”

  “Why?” he asked, taken aback.

  Ravyn felt Margery’s gaze, and their earlier conversation came back to her. The chamber grew quiet as she and Carac stared at one another, each waiting for the other to bend first.

  It went against everything Ravyn was, but she knew someone would have to give up some information in order to move things along. She didn’t want to spend hours in the room when she could be stopping Sybbyl.

  Ravyn inhaled deeply before slowly releasing the breath. “I am not a lady. It was a lie. I am after...someone.”

  “The witch,” Simon stated.

  Her head whipped to him. “You know?”

  Simon gave a single nod. “I saw Sybbyl here yesterday. She killed so many.”

  “You are after Sybbyl?” Carac asked, confusion in his gaze.

  When Ravyn didn’t reply, Margery released a loud sigh and said, “We are Hunters. Specifically, we hunt witches who are part of the Coven.”

  “I will help you,” Simon said. “Sybbyl cannot be allowed to kill any more.”

  Carac threw up his hands, palms out. “Wait. Everyone, just wait.”

  “I told you what I saw,” Simon stated.

  Ravyn watched a muscle in Carac’s jaw jump before he dropped his arms to his sides and said, “I know, old friend. However, witches are not supposed to be real.”

  “Says who?” Ravyn asked.

  Carac opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Finally, he shrugged. “I have no idea.”

  “Well, I know they exist,” Ravyn said. “I have killed several, and if we do not stop Sybbyl, more innocents will die.”

  Carac held her gaze for a long moment. “Tell me more.”

  His soft demand sent a thrill through Ravyn. The idea—the hope—that he might side with them left her breathless with excitement.

  Chapter 13

  In all his life, Carac had never thought to ask someone to give him information on witches. As if it were as common as battle tactics.

  Yet, here he was, doing just that.

  He glanced at Simon to find his friend focused on Ravyn. Margery kept her gaze on the door and her hand on the hilt of her sword. It was easy for Carac to notice how both Ravyn and Margery stood like any battle-hardened warrior would.

  How had he missed it before? That was an easy answer. They had been women, so he hadn’t allowed himself to consider it. Not even when he saw Ravyn’s crossbow.

  Now that he was aware of the difference in her, he had a hard time looking at anything—or anyone—but Ravyn. He had been attracted to her from the beginning, but now that he saw who she truly was, he ached for her. It went bone deep, sinking through skin and muscle to latch on to his very soul.

  This...yearning...wasn’t something he was accustomed to. Lust, aye, but not the persistent, unrelenting craving to pull Ravyn close and breathe in her scent, to feel her warmth and discover her curves.

  Watching her move in the forest with such elegance and skill had set his blood afire. But it was staring into her dark eyes now, taking in the magnificent warrior woman she was, that made it nearly impossible to breathe.

  Her seductive brown gaze studied him silently, unaware of his inner torment. “Are you sure you want to know?”

  “I do not,” he admitted. “However, I see no other option. You, Margery, and even Simon know what to expect. I need to, as well, if I am to help you.”

  Ravyn’s full lips pressed together briefly. “Knowing and experiencing what a witch can do are two different things.”

  “I am aware of that, but I have to begin somewhere. Unless you want to invite Sybbyl for a demonstration.”

  Ravyn’s eyes lit with a fire that burned with retribution. “That will happen soon enough, and you will not get in my way when it does. She is mine.”

  “We can help kill her,” Simon said.

  Carac crossed his arms over his chest, curious at Ravyn’s heated words. “We are the best at what we do.”

  “It will not matter how skilled either of you is,” Margery stated.

  Carac glanced at Margery before his gaze returned to Ravyn. “Why?”

  “Witches can only be killed by certain types of wood or metal, and it is
different for each witch. Or,” Ravyn continued, “by weapons like mine and Margery’s. Instruments that have magic added to them.”

  Carac rubbed a hand over his mouth before dropping his arms to his sides. Shite. Of all the things he’d thought they might say, that wasn’t one of them. “I think, perhaps, you should start at the beginning.”

  “I will stand guard,” Margery said. She walked to Ravyn and paused. “I do not like the idea of Sybbyl or one of John’s knights coming upon us.”

  Simon started toward her, but Margery held up her hand. “You should remain to hear the story. Besides, no one will see me.”

  “Let her go,” Ravyn urged Carac and Simon.

  Carac relented and nodded to Simon, who leaned a shoulder against the wall and waited impatiently for the story to begin, his gaze darting to the door.

  Ravyn watched Margery slip out of the chamber before she met Carac’s gaze. “Once, a very, very long time ago in the north, the Vikings learned of a woman who could do magic. The Norse have always revered anyone with special abilities, but this woman went above and beyond what any others could do. She was the First Witch. Her name was lost through the centuries, but after her, more and more women developed similar skills, though none could match her in power.”

  Carac knew very little about the Norse, and with just a few sentences, he found himself completely immersed in Ravyn’s tale.

  She drew in a deep breath. “Some of the stories say that the First Witch was good, some say she did bad things with her magic. No one really knows because it was so long ago. Before the First Witch died, she commanded that her bones be scattered across various lands upon her death. For eons, legends about the First Witch were told among other witches. The story shifted and altered until it eventually faded with time. But the few things that remained the same were that she was the first, and that she feared someone bringing her back to life—which is why she insisted that her bones be hidden.

  “After her death, and the scattering of her bones, life went on. Witches moved from the north into all lands. As with most everything, some used their abilities for good, while others chose the darkness and made the decision to benefit from their magic with power, immortality, and many other things.”

  Simon blew out a breath and mumbled, “Shite.”

  Carac had to agree. It was difficult enough for him to accept magic, but add in immortality, and he was pushing his limits.

  Ravyn glanced at the floor before continuing. “I do not know exactly when the Coven was formed, but that group of witches has been a problem for hundreds of years. Documents show they were always a significant force, but a few decades ago, they began to search out other witches.”

  “For what purpose?” Carac asked.

  “To force them to join them. Any witches who refused were killed.”

  Carac frowned, unsettled by such drastic actions. “Those kinds of measures are used when a party intends to dominate another.”

  Ravyn nodded slowly. “Exactly. One witch named Edra lived quietly in a village while keeping her abilities secret. She fell in love with a man named Radnar. One day, the Coven came looking for her and gave her an ultimatum: join them or die. She knew if she refused the Coven outright, they would kill her. So she ran from everything she knew and loved—including Radnar—because she feared they would take their anger out on those she cared about.

  “For seven years, Edra kept ahead of the Coven, always on the run. Then, one day, she had enough. She decided to take a stand and fight against the three witches who had been after her. Edra fought them, unknowing that Radnar happened to be in the area and witnessed everything.

  “Edra, with Radnar’s help, defeated the witches. Since he now knew her secret, she told him everything. Time had not diminished their love, nor could they remain separated any longer. They decided to face the Coven together. On their journey, Edra spotted a homeless, starving girl and offered her—Leoma—a home. Leoma went with Edra and Radnar, and she was the first of many who found shelter and comfort with the couple.

  “Edra converted the ruins of an abbey into a home and took in anyone running from the Coven, as well as any orphaned child who needed help. Knights came and joined Radnar, and together they taught all who wished to pick up a weapon how to fight witches. And so, we became Hunters.”

  Carac was well aware that Ravyn didn’t mention whether or not she was an orphan. There was a story there, and he longed to know everything there was to know about this warrior woman who made him burn with need.

  “All of you can fight?” Simon asked.

  Ravyn laid a hand on her crossbow. “Everyone at the abbey has duties. Those of us who wanted to hunt the witches learned how. We trained with all weapons, but if we favored one over another, that is what we chose.”

  Carac widened his stance. “These knights who trained you, they knew what you were leaning to fight against?”

  “Aye,” she replied. “Some came for only a short while, teaching everything they knew before moving on. Others decided to stay and chose the abbey as their final destination. However, more than just knights trained us. Men from other places found us and shared their knowledge in weapons, battle, and espionage, as well.”

  “You never feared that someone had been sent by the Coven?” Carac asked.

  Ravyn shrugged. “Of course, we did. But Edra’s magic ensured that the abbey was hidden from everyone unless you knew how to get in. Also, each person was required to walk beneath an arch to reach the abbey. Edra spelled that gateway to reveal anyone or anything hidden that might mean us harm. Besides, up until recently, the Coven had no idea we were hunting them.”

  Simon pushed away from the wall. “What changed?”

  “Leoma was on a mission, hunting a witch. A lord was after the same woman for killing his ward and had no idea what she was.”

  Carac frowned as he cocked his head. Surely, Ravyn couldn’t be speaking of Braith. His friend’s ward had been murdered, but Carac hadn’t heard of Braith going after the person responsible.

  Ravyn continued. “The man foolishly tried to fight the witch on his own. Leoma ended up saving his life, and the two decided to team up.”

  “The man’s name,” Carac demanded.

  Ravyn paused for a moment. “Braith.”

  Simon’s head jerked to Carac. “Did you not receive a missive from Braith?”

  “Aye,” Carac answered.

  “Braith did say that he knew of others he wished to ask to join in our fight against the Coven,” Ravyn replied.

  Carac let that news sink in as he got back to the story. “So, Braith and Leoma fought the witch.”

  “They fought several. The Coven killed Braith’s ward to get him to follow the witch because they needed him.”

  Carac squeezed his eyes closed briefly as he shook his head. “Why? Did he know of witches beforehand?”

  “Nay. They wanted him to find the Blood Skull.”

  “I do not like the sound of that,” Simon said tersely.

  Ravyn’s lips flattened. “The Blood Skull is from the First Witch. And the only one who could retrieve it was a descendant of the person who hid the skull.”

  “Braith,” Carac said.

  Ravyn nodded. “When he took the Blood Skull, he became its Warden. In his hands, the relic is protected and protects him in return. In fact, it brought him back to life.”

  Carac was going to need a drink after this. “Can you not use the Blood Skull to end the Coven?”

  “That is what we wish to do. Unfortunately, it is not that simple.” Ravyn licked her lips and shifted her feet. “When Leoma and Braith fought the Coven, the witches learned about us. Now, they are after us. We were always at a disadvantage before, reacting to where we learned a witch had struck a village or an innocent. We would then track and kill them. Now, they are drawing us out, all the while continuing on with whatever quest they’re on.”

  “Which is?” Carac asked.

  Ravyn swallowed heavily. “We do not know f
or sure, but we suspect that the Coven’s goal is to find all the bones of the First Witch and bring her back.”

  “Even if they do, you said that Braith has the Blood Skull,” Simon pointed out.

  She shrugged. “I would like to think that the Coven cannot succeed, but it is a chance that none of us at the abbey are willing to take.”

  Carac nodded in agreement. “How many witches are in the Coven?”

  “We have no idea. There were four Coven elders. Braith and the Blood Skull eliminated two. If we locate a witch, we now follow them to see if they are after something before we kill them.”

  “How many of you have stopped a witch since Leoma and Braith?” Carac asked.

  Ravyn glanced away. “There are only a few Hunters. That is why Braith wanted to bring in more men he thought might join us in this war—so we can track more witches at once.”

  “I see,” Simon stated.

  Carac thought of the staff that Simon had mentioned earlier. “Anything a witch is after is of interest, aye?”

  “It is,” Ravyn agreed.

  “There is an item here. A Staff of the Eternal, or so we heard it called. That is what Sybbyl wants.”

  Simon’s face twisted in disgust. “She killed dozens to get Randall to give it to her.”

  “Sybbyl would not remain here if she had the staff,” Ravyn said, her eyes alight with anticipation. “There is still a chance I can stop her.”

  “We,” Margery corrected from outside the chamber.

  Simon nodded. “Aye. We.”

  “Neither of you has weapons that can kill Sybbyl,” Ravyn pointed out.

  Carac shared a grin with Simon. “Perhaps not, but there are other ways we can aid you.”

  “I need to talk to Randall,” Ravyn said.

  Carac lifted one side of his mouth in a grin. “I can bring you to him.”

  “Then do. I have no wish to wait another moment,” she urged.

  Carac pivoted and led the way out of the chamber. He couldn’t believe that he was going to war against witches, but it was the first time in a long while that he felt there was something worth fighting for.

  Not to mention, he would be standing alongside Ravyn while doing it.