Romana moved into a pose, her arm stretched in front of her, with the other raised above her head and Silver mirrored her.
The drums got louder and pipes sounded and the rhythm increased, Silver and Romana began circling each other, and slowly other wytches stopped in favour of watching them.
The moment Romana joined their outstretched hands the dance officially began.
Spiralling, lunging and twisting, somehow neither of them actually led the dance, even though Romana was the one who knew the style. It was as if they were mirrors of each other. It became more and more complex as they went on, with flips, kicks and acrobatics added in. It was almost like sparring, as if they were fighting each other, yet at the same time it was definitely a dance for they were commanded by the old world music.
Then Romana upped the ante, her fiery skin shimmering as she called balls of fire into her hands that left trails of fire in their wake. Silver smirked, and drew demon fire from the first world, intrigued by the contrast between Romana’s fire which created the glowing light and her own which absorbed it and turned the light into bright shadows that cast darkness. The fire would kill if one of them stumbled and the deadly addition made Silver’s blood race.
The speed of the dance continued to increase, and they both managed to avoid the burning trails of each other’s magic as the music came to its pinnacle.
When the end came, it was sudden. The music just stopped, and so did the dancers. Not that anyone else was dancing anymore; Silver and Romana had become the centre of everyone’s attention, surrounded by gasping spectators.
They had stopped face to face, hands raised high above them and entwined, so that their fires almost mixed. They were so close Silver could feel the heat of Romana’s skin.
Her eyes locked on Romana’s, it was no surprise that Romana had retained Silver’s eye colour, but even as she thought that, her superior eyesight detected threads of gold making themselves known among the liquid silver of her eyes. Romana’s soul was absorbing what little pieces of Silver’s own must have remained within the girl when they were separated.
There was no way that either of them was ever going to be in possession of the entirety of their own soul now; Silver’s own actions had seen to that over three decades ago.
Applause greeted them and both of them extinguished their fire simultaneously, except that Romana’s continued to blaze over her skin as an extension of her power. Silver felt no need to constantly show off.
“I hear you’ve visited Marten twice already.” Romana said as the music started again, yet the two of them moved over to the shadows. “You enjoy riling him up, don’t you?”
“The kingling is entertaining.” Silver admitted.
“Have you really taken a castle for your own?” Romana seemed unwilling to believe it. “He was so stressed over that his animal threatened to overtake him. The last time that happened was the day you died and almost took me with you.”
Ah, so the kingling had managed to learn to control his animal then. Equally blessed and cursed, elven men of the purer bloodlines often carried the animal traits. Something that permitted them to change into the form of a specific animal at will. Unfortunately, as a separate entity, the animal within them tended to occasionally get a little out of control. As a halfling, the kingling had suffered worse than most with his animal.
“There were only a few deaths; it served its purpose of testing my army’s effectiveness.” Silver commented, watching as one of Romana’s two familiars, Ash, flew overhead, his great pearlescent white wings momentarily hiding the sky from view.
“I must admit, our records of demon wytches are few and far between. But none of them mention an army.” Romana sounded sceptical.
“Demon wytches may not have had the power to conjure an army. But my power is over the demonic realm.” Silver corrected. “I can manipulate anything within that realm to suit my purpose.”
“And I take it you have found your familiar?”
Trust Romana to find the one subject she didn’t need to talk about right now. “I have.” Her tone clearly instructed the other wytch to leave it at that.
“A word about familiars,” Romana ignored the clear warning to drop it. “They can quite often develop personalities so dissimilar to our own that it scares us. They balance us in a way that can make us more stable.” She looked pointedly at Silver.
“Do you think I’m becoming more stable?” Silver laughed. “You cannot undo the wounds of the past, Romana.”
“In time, wounds become scars.” Romana replied, “They begin to hurt less.”
Romana was continuing on with her speech about forgiveness when Silver began to feel the hairs on the back of her neck rise in warning.
Never one to ignore a gut feeling, Silver cautiously began to unobtrusively gaze around.
Wytches were getting drunk, music played loudly. All these things conspired against her, so when she heard the slide of metal against metal, it was so faint she almost missed it.
“Down!” She ordered, grabbing Romana by the hair and shoving her into the dirt just as blades came spinning past where their heads had been moments before
Romana and Silver were bound, if one died…
Silver opened a portal to the kingling in Morendor and shoved the woman who owned part of her soul through it. Closing it so that the queen of all wytchdom was effectively stuck with her over-protective lover, Silver turned to face the threat.
Wytches looked around in drunken anger and in some cases fear. There was no way that they were going to be able to fight with her in this situation, Silver quickly surmised. In fact, in their imbibed state, they were more likely to shoot her with magic than anything else.
She reached for her blades, only to find them gone in favour of the gauzy dress.
“Stupid thread wytch!” Silver muttered, “Where the hell are my weapons?” She yelled.
When no answer was forthcoming, Silver reached out mentally and ripped into the threat wytch’s mind. It wasn’t gentle, but the wytch would recover, eventually.
She darted through the rapidly emptying clearing and swooped under one of the long tablecloths and retrieved her swords. Strung her quiver over her shoulder and pulled her bow across her body. She reached for her knives, only to remember that she had no sheaths to put them in. She couldn’t exactly leave a load of unbeatable weapons here for the wytches to stumble across either.
She opened a portal to Dalmorin and thrust the weapons she couldn’t carry through it. Finally armed and ready she swept out from under the table and was immediately set upon by over a dozen men.
Their numbers alone wouldn’t have helped them had they not also carried cursed weapons. One glance at the runes on the blades and Silver knew she was going to be lucky to make it out of this alive.
Forget capturing one to interrogate, she thought as she dodged blades left, right and centre. She would be lucky to escape this alive.
She saw her opening, and dove for it. She slid between the legs of one of her attackers and out onto the other side of the ring they had formed.
Without pausing, she ran towards the cover of the woods on the other side of the clearing. When she was far enough away, she took to the skies, heading north.
An arrow, fast and silent, pierced her wing, then another and another.
She didn’t make a sound, her years of training to withstand any and all pain inflicted upon her keeping her conscious and able to ignore the pain of the injuries. That training couldn’t help her when it came to the collision course she was now on. In minutes at best, she would be thrust upon the ground.
She tried to stay in the air, but below her the ground, red with the carcasses of dead and dying plants, was coming closer. She’d dropped down from the cover of the clouds and now the land fell away in places like scars covering the landscape beneath her. She had no idea where she was. Some kind of marshland and the beings hunting her were speeding across it at a speed that made it clear that they were elven
.
She spared a glance at her wings; they were shredded. The pain was excruciating, and blood loss would soon be debilitating. She flew on anyway, her pride preventing her from using a portal to escape quickly. She would deal with these pests as she would any other; without using the cowardly option.
Daggers looking as if they were formed of leaves stuck outwards from the bark of the tree she had just swooped past as she tried to slow her descent. The tree toppled and with a glance behind her she saw it looked as if it had been picked up and thrown downwards like a spear.
More trees were headed her way as some unknown forest briefly took over the marshes before ending no more than a league ahead.
Her flight drooped further to the point where her dress began to catch on the branches. This was no forest that she had ever set foot in before. It was a dead forest; no birds flew out in response to their chase, no creatures fled from the area. And most strangely, though it was the height of summer, the trees were bare. However lichen grew so thick and fierce that at first glance it was as if the trees still had leaves and mould webbed its way across the trunks.
Those same trunks were still receiving blows from daggers as they tried to find their mark in her flesh. Her flight trail must have looked like that of a drunken bumble bee as she attempted to dodge branches and slow herself down at the same time. Ahead, she could see the end of the forest and whatever cover it provided as it lapsed into moorland. She sank lower and lower till she eventually crashed into the tufts of grass.
A quick inventory showed she’d broken one of her wings and now it protruded at a strange angle from her back, refusing to close and slowing her down as she started to run through the tricky terrain, brambles caught at the stupid flowing dress, ripping it and slowing her further.
At this rate, they’d be on her in moments.
She tore the dress, removing the last foot of material from around her legs as she ran and then tearing away the silly wing cape, leaving a hole in the fabric at her back.
Wardrobe problems solved, she ran at her advanced speed, cresting the hill before her only to find the earth give way beneath her. In desperation she spread out her wings one last time, hoping to gentle her fall.
The river flowed beneath her like shimmering silk through the night, and there were a few seconds between the moment when she felt the earth leave her feet and the moment where she hit the ice cold water where she thought she would make it to the opposite bank.
She was sorely mistaken.
“Mother!” She heard Theria yell as she hit the rocks, but blackness reached her before she could dart along the bond to her familiar and offer Theria some comfort.
She awoke to the sensation of drowning. She tried to swim upwards, but she had no idea which direction was up. Everything was the black of murky water in the night. She was thrust against rocks over and over like a hammer striking an anvil. She was the swirling water’s unwilling captive for what seemed like hours, but was at most minutes as she struggled to find air to breathe.
Strong jaws clamped around her waist.
Silver cursed, but instead of clamping down and finishing her off, the jaws of whatever held her carefully pulled her from the water and draped her across something furry.
She drifted in and out of consciousness, the sensation of movement beneath her, and the noise of battle and screeches behind her.
“Hold on, mother.”
Why was Loke here? Silver wasn’t coherent enough to know, yet a mild sense of panic managed to become known amid her numbness.
An hour passed, maybe two, before more voices shook through her like sharp drums.
“Theria, what happened?” Leigh was demanding.
She lost track of the conversation as sleep threatened to overtake her once more.
“We don’t have the ability to heal this.” Miria was talking fast. “We should take her to the king. He won’t risk Romana’s life, not when she saved it.”
“Her brothers would find her again.” Theria argued. “Bring him here, blindfolded.”
“How do you propose we do that?”
Silver couldn’t hold on any longer, their words became nonsense as she passed out for a final time.
Chapter Eleven
REFUSAL
When Silver awoke, a pair of bright green eyes stared down at her. Something heavy weighed down on her chest.
“Mother?” Theria asked, using their language. “Are you conscious?”
“Of course I am. Why would you think otherwise?”
“You woke several times before.” Theria admitted, shifting and Silver felt the weight on top of her ease. “You were not sane, so we restrained you.”
“How did I get back?” Silver asked, sitting up and attempting to move her legs over the side of the bed.
Theria growled and used a single massive paw to push her back down.
“Don’t get up yet.” She instructed, and Silver looked – really looked at her – her familiar had reached full grown.
“How long was I out?” She repeated, shocked at the size difference.
“A week,” Both of them turned at the sound of a familiar, but out of place voice. “For future reference, I prefer not to be kidnapped, so tell your pets to just ask.”
King Marten, his clothes stained with her blood, came striding through the open doorway with an arrogance that she didn’t think he was really feeling considering the demons in the room with him.
“You showed him where we are?” Silver rounded on Theria.
“He was drugged and wasn’t allowed to leave our quarters,” Theria tried to explain, “Leigh and Miria did it so there was no risk of exposing us and you can wipe his memory when he leaves.”
“You could have picked any priest, healer or heck, even a wytch. You chose him?”
“He’s trained to deal with battle wounds.” Theria justified her decision with ease. “Plus, since your life is tied to Romana’s he was singularly motivated to keep you alive.”
Silver could see the logic, but it didn’t mean she had to like it. “How did I get back here?”
“I felt your pain and exhaustion.” Theria began slowly, and Silver could feel her trepidation through their bond. “Naphulan was off-realm, Leigh and Miria weren’t there either.”
Silver went deadly still as her disjointed memories of her rescue aligned with what Theria was suggesting.
“Your orders,” She ground out, “Were to remain within the protections; out of harm’s way and out of sight.”
“Orders mean nothing when your life at stake.” Theria argued and Silver saw the rest of her hounds come in, as if to back Theria up should things turn for the worse.
Silver sighed heavily. “The rules I created were put there for a reason.” She insisted. “Did you stop to think what those elves could have done to you or your brothers if they found you?”
Theria paled. “They weren’t elves, mother.” She began. “When we tore at them there was no flesh beneath their covers. They were no beings we have learnt of.”
Silver leapt out of bed at that. “You engaged them?”
The effect of her moving was instantaneous; Marten spun, offering her his back, Theria jumped down from the bed and stood on the ground, putting herself nose to nose with Silver and Lena walked in with a familiar pile of leather and weapons.
“My eyes are burning.” Marten muttered, and Silver suddenly realised she’d been naked under the sheet except for her mask.
“Stop whining kingling, I’ve fought in less than this.” Silver informed the blushing king. “It’s not my fault I’m stunning.”
“Would you care for a bath, mistress?” Lena attempted to pass her a robe but Silver waved her away, she enjoyed the kingling’s discomfort.
She examined her injuries briefly and then turned back to Theria.
“I appreciate you felt you had to, but your actions risked more than necessary. I could have gotten out of their easily.”
“They were searching the river ba
nks.” Theria objected. “Your pride stopped you from calling a portal even when you knew you were going to lose.”
“I was not losing.” Silver denied, inwardly panicking as she remembered how she had run away like some coward. Was she losing her edge? Had all those years spent as Endis’ prison weakened her? Had her brother caused her to lose her edge?
She flared out her wings, annoyed to find that patches of downy feathers were growing in patches where the wounds were still healing.
“Have you dressed yet?” Marten asked.
“Maybe.” Silver muttered, just to keep him in suspense. She had lost interest in teasing him when her mind had come up with that disturbing thought.
Lena spared the kingling from taking a second glance as she pushed a screen in front of Silver and pulled across a tub of bath water.
Silver pouted and got into the tub of scalding water that Lena had dragged into the room. While she bathed, she listened to her familiar escort Marten from the room and thank him for his aid. Theria also took the liberty of promising to have the kingling escorted safely home as soon as the centaurs returned.
Why was her familiar so sane?
Silver pondered this; though they had both had somewhat traumatic childhoods, her familiars had been fairly stable after Silver adopted her. Also, the point of a familiar was to balance the wytch and therefore stabilize her powers. So it made sense that where Silver was hardened and cold, Theria would be vulnerable and compassionate.
Silver dressed and walked out to where the kingling sat in her armchair by the fire.
“Romana made it back alright, I take it.” She said as she effortlessly grabbed the back of the armchair and literally tipped the young king out of it. He looked stunned for a moment as she replaced the chair and hopped into it herself before he quickly became annoyed as she stuck her tongue out at him.
It was her chair after all.
“She owes her life to you,” Marten opted to ignore their byplay. “But at the same time you almost killed both of you, so I am unsure whether to thank you or yell at you.”
“Yell.” Silver retorted. “If you started acting all nice I’d just have to make you mad again, and with my mysterious attackers still out there I just don’t have the time.” The kingling looked aghast, and Silver silently revelled in making him respond. Endis had managed to become completely emotionless as a result of his elven training to control his animal. Marten, though trained in the same way, was half human and so no matter what he did, Silver would always be able to coax a response if she tried hard enough.
Silver's Redemption (Soul Merge Saga Book 3) Page 14