Silver's Redemption (Soul Merge Saga Book 3)

by M. P. A. Hanson

  “We, the six wytch queens of the dark coven swear allegiance to Silver, Wytch Queen of the Demonic Realm, princess of the elven kingdom and half-Ancient of the line of Gaillean. We vow to uphold your commands and entrust you with our lives to do with as you see fit. Bind us to our oath, dark queen.”

  Dark queen, now that had a nice ring to it.

  “I bind you to your oaths, wytch queens of the dark coven.” Silver replied. “If you should ever find yourself in danger and unable to deal with it yourselves, then this is my base of operations and it is open to you. But right now I don’t have time to give you a guided tour. Tonight I am committed to redecorating the front gates of Dalmorin with Alda’s head.”

  Providing Alda didn’t end up dust like Kobos instead; either situation was fine with Silver.

  “I wish to accompany you.” Grandmother Black informed her, “I have a personal interest in making sure Alda suffers both before and after death.”

  “As do we all,” Averna piqued up.

  Silver examined the faces surrounding her. “Come then, we shall consider this your first test.” She checked the great stone clock carved into the face of the mountain above the gates. “You have fifteen minutes to prepare yourself.”

  Instantly, all of the wytches disappeared, doing their own teleport to wherever they had supplies stored for battle. Keenan was all that was left of the original group, standing opposite her, looking like he was trying to find the best way to say something.

  “Spit it out.” She huffed, impatient.

  “I wish to join you as well,” He reluctantly informed her. “My training with Naphulan is complete and I am fully in control of my new… powers. I believe I could be of assistance to you.”

  “I would be leading you into a magical warzone.” Silver notified him, “There is a high probability you would not survive were you to go.”

  “I know,” Keenan gave her a long look. “But I plan to return and resign my office as thief lord.”

  Silver was shocked. “Why would you do that? You are part of an arrangement!”

  “I fulfilled the duties of enforcer the moment I was sufficiently trained.” Keenan replied. “There is no need for me to remain with the guild when I prefer my place at your side.”

  No replies sprang to mind as Silver digested the information, minutes later all she could utter were two words. “How long?”

  Keenan didn’t need to ask what she meant. “I eradicated the threat to the guild over a month ago.”

  He had voluntarily stayed with her for over a month, letting her believe he was staying out of duty. “Why?”

  “I prefer my place at your side.” He repeated.

  Her hounds saved her from her confusion as they bounded up to her, a swift command to get their armour on sent most of them on their way, except for Cicero.

  “How many wytches do you expect to lose?” He asked in the hellhound language.

  Silver hooked her fingers in the grey fur, “I don’t have any way to tell. Some of them are unexperienced, yet others are so practiced I think no mortal could withstand them.”

  “But we’re not facing mortals.” He observed and Silver nodded her agreement. Of all her hounds, Cicero was the only natural born leader. In the old Hellhound society he would have done well without much effort. In many ways, he was reminiscent of Naphulan.

  “Your brothers and sister will be accompanying us.” Silver informed him. “It’s well past time that you had your first battle.”

  “With respect, Loke and I find bloodshed less than enjoyable.”

  “You don’t have to enjoy it,” Silver muttered. “You just have to be able to survive it.” She paused and decided she was ready to deal with Keenan once more. “Go and get your armour on.”

  Cicero gave a discontented bark but bounded off, leaving her with Keenan. The halfling never needed to change, choosing to remain constantly battle ready in an echo of Silver’s own mannerisms. Still, most of his arms were exposed.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to borrow some armour from my brother?” Silver asked.

  His armour was traditional for ice-fey, so it only covered his chest and shoulders and he wore bracers of the same soft dark blue leather material.

  “I was informed that if I used my swords properly my armour wouldn’t be necessary.” Keenan retorted, quoting her in one of their earlier training sessions as he briefly rested his hands against the hilts of his hook swords.

  He lips tilted slightly in a ghost of a smile. “True.”

  “And I promised to wear these scars with pride.” He added, to which she could only nod. It was still hard for Silver to comprehend that the loyalty behind those scars was for her. The only reason people had been loyal to her before was because they hoped to get something from her, or they already had and they felt as if they had to pay it back. Keenan didn’t seem to fit into either category.

  “What do you want from me?” The words slipped out as a whisper without her conscious approval, and she cursed herself for saying them.

  Keenan gave her a long look, the intensity of those eyes making her want to look away, but she was the Silver Eyed Wytch, so she stared straight back with defiance.

  “You know.” He replied, and Silver wanted to screech at him. If she knew, would she have asked?

  She had offered him gold, power, a new life. What more could he want from her? The temptation to use the demon link that bound them was strong, but she fought it back. She had always been taught to ignore distractions in a battle, and she was going to have enough of them with Theria fighting.

  Her familiar butted against her shoulder as if conjured by her thoughts, and slowly the wytches and hounds returned. No one was late, and for that she was grateful.

  “To battle,” She said simply, swinging up onto Theria’s back and opening a portal.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  BLINKED

  They reappeared on the eastern boarder of the desert where sands melted into mountains and the domains of the desert dons gave way to the realms of the dwarf lords. It seemed her cousin had similar tastes to Silver when it came to accommodation as before her a dwarven gate had been flung wide open in invitation.

  The wytches waited for her signal, while her hounds growled low. Silver already knew Alda was too much of a coward to face them in the open, so she nudged Theria forwards with her mind and drew her swords.

  They advanced steadily into the caves, and Silver almost choked on the smell of decay.

  The inside of the mine was a graveyard. At Dalmorin the dwarves kept burning fires lit in their great stone pits, and the short people bustled around constantly, their muscled frames often carrying heavy loads without complaint. This fortress was gloomy, so Silver switched to the vision of the nycto-demons and extended her power so that the others were doing the same. It was something she had never tried before, but from the muffled gasps of surprise, it worked.

  At once she saw the carcasses of dwarves, piled high at intervals across the great hall that would once have been their greatest pride. Their corpses were blackened, and the place reeked of magic. Keenan, Lilian, Averna, Casey and Hannah all rode on her hounds at the front of the group with her, while Grandmother Black had summoned a great hulking skeletal horse made of the grey mist-like souls to ride upon and rode up next to her.

  “I can sense her to the east.” The tiny woman informed her. “Remember that anyone within a few feet of her is subject to her control regardless of whether or not they have been touched by Ancient’s blood. So you and your demons will be the only ones who can face her.”

  Silver nodded and they moved stealthily through the caves. No one stopped them as they made their way through the larger tunnels to what was obviously the throne room. But when they got there it was to find the back of the room gone, and in its place was a rockslide like no other. Dwarves were caught up in the rubble, all of them long dead while the staggered seats that would once have served the nobility were filled with robed worshipers, ga
zing in awe at the woman sitting atop one of the large slabs of rock. Fire had been lit in a trench surrounding the base of the steep slope of jagged rocks, illuminating Alda with flickering light that hurt her demon vision. Silver extended her power again, and her vision – and that of the wytches – returned to normal.

  There was an otherworldliness to the small figure that sat cross-legged on the rock before her. Silver recognised from Romana’s memory the girl’s white hair and many elaborate piercings, but she hadn’t been prepared for the girl’s youth.

  The kingling wouldn’t be pleased to find that the being that had kept them all running scared for this entire time looked barely over ten years old. Perhaps the genetics from Alda’s mother had meant the girl grew slower than most, or maybe she had been frozen into mortality earlier. None of that mattered because the fact remained that Silver was looking at a thin, white haired child, tattooed and pierced like a tribal shaman of old. Her skin was tinted grey, but it wasn’t anything that would have made her stand out in human society. Alda had stayed isolated and hidden by choice. Though she sat there like a goddess in repose, she was a coward.

  If she’d been less of one they might have found her sooner, and then Tommy’s death could have been avoided. Silver’s rage reignited even as she stood there among the other worshippers. Alda wanted to be a goddess, but Silver would happily prove her mortal.

  But it wouldn’t be so simple, she realised, as she saw the grey wings protruding out of the backs of the robed worshipers. Alda had brought an army of her own people to serve her, just as Silver had done.

  “You will not win against me,” She spoke in a girlish voice that carried a humming undertone.

  Every head moved to observe Silver and her group of wytches.

  “How did you enjoy my presents?” Silver taunted, seeing the desecrated corpses of Alda’s brothers gently lain at the foot of the rockslide.

  “As much as you enjoyed yours, I’m sure.” Alda replied. “Shall we continue to waste time talking, when we both know how this will end?”

  “But I love catching up with family.” Silver playfully whined.

  “Then tell me, cousin,” Alda rose as she spoke, lifting an ornate carved staff from the ground behind her as she did so. “Why play at insanity when we both know you feel nothing?”

  “Why play at being emotionless when we both know how much you hate me?” Silver parried a question with a question.

  “Oh, but cousin, you have no idea the depths to which I truly hate you.” Alda shook her head, “But when I kill your lover, then you may come close to understanding.” She looked pointedly at Keenan.

  Silver groaned. “How many times will I have to repeat this? Keenan is not my lover, are you all blind?”

  Alda screeched, “I have been in his mind and seen his thoughts of you! You try to protect him, yet you do not deserve to! I could not protect Kobos.”

  “Because you ran away, so true was your love for him!” Silver muttered. “I’m beginning to see my mistake, talking with you is just giving me a headache.”

  She opened portals on all sides of the room, nudging Theria forwards as she did so.

  “Then we fight.” Alda bowed her head and raised the staff, just as Silver conjured pyro-demon fire into her hands.

  The wytches instinctively did as she wanted them to, heading straight for the worshippers, recognising Alda as too powerful an enemy for any of them.

  Battle began to rage around her as Silver leapt from Theria’s back, enabling her familiar to join the battle. Unsheathing her swords, she walked forwards purposefully, summoning portals as she went and sending them flying towards Alda who was forced to duck and weave once she realised she could not deflect them.

  When her cousin began shooting blazing spheres of light at her, Silver simply conjured portals to absorb them. Alda was sweating; clearly using much of her power to attack Silver, yet Silver was barely bothering. It was just too easy. For all her bluster, Alda was weak with offensive magic, her only abilities seeming to be in controlling people.

  She seemed to realise she wasn’t playing to her strengths, and soon enough, some of her worshippers began to fling themselves at Silver, forcing her to switch focus.

  That was when it all went wrong.

  Three of the alien creatures threw themselves upon her at once, and Silver was caught attempting to avoid the many attacks coming her way. She sensed Theria’s alarm down the bond, and shifted to see Alda targeting her familiar with those strikes while worshipers attacked her. The blast of pyro-demon fire Silver shot up to vaporise her attackers wasn’t fast enough, and in a single instant of clarity Silver knew as she ran towards Alda that she wouldn’t make it in time. The blasts were going to hit her familiar.

  Another worshiper got in her way, and she didn’t bother to hit it with demon fire, instead leaping over its head. She wasn’t going to make it.

  She blinked.

  Silver braced herself for the pain, but it didn’t come from where she expected it to. Instead of feeling Theria’s pain, she felt the echoes of Keenan’s.

  Keenan lay on the floor in Theria’s place, a hole blasted through his abdomen, while her hellhound was atop Alda, her jaws pressed over the girl’s heart. Alda was weeping and laughing hysterically at the same time.

  “I may die.” She yelled. “But I took your lover with me!”

  Silver left her familiar in charge of Alda, and quickly moved to Keenan’s side.

  “You idiot!” She yelled at his prone form. “What were you thinking?!”

  He’d saved her.

  Without their familiars, wytches lost control of their powers, inevitably dying shortly afterwards. Keenan must have known.

  “Mother, let him devour Alda’s soul, it will heal him.” Theria suggested.

  Silver instantly swooped down to lift the halfling. A hole the size of a man’s fist decorated his stomach, and blood was pooling out rapidly. Demon blood would heal his scars and go against Gaillean’s oath. This was her only chance; he only had minutes at best left to live before he bled to death.

  She knelt next to Alda, but when she turned him onto his front and pressed his head over Alda’s heart he did nothing.

  “He refuses to eat of the souls of the living.” Naphulan appeared at her side, and Silver realised that the battle around them had finished. “I’ve tried to reason with him.”

  “You idiot!” She snapped at the dying man for the second time.

  “I don’t want that on my conscience.” Keenan’s voice, fading and disconnected drifted along their demon bond. “If I do that then I’m a monster, and there would be no reason for me to stay alive.”

  “No.” Silver retorted. “There is every reason!”

  “Mother, give him the reason he wants. It’s the only thing that will get him past his revulsion at eating souls.” Theria interrupted. “Let him die, or give him the words you know he wants to hear.”

  But Silver didn’t know what her familiar was talking about.

  “He’s in love with you.” Her familiar was as blunt as could possibly be, yet even still it took Silver a few precious seconds to process what she was saying.

  “No.” She whispered denial even as her mind released a flood of images: Keenan sparring with her, protecting her from Roan, laughing with her. Then there were Alda’s and Gaillean’s words, the way he had interrogated Roan about her dead fiancée and sworn his oath of loyalty. “You’re crazy,” She whispered at him. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

  “You don’t have to say it back,” Keenan muttered. “I know it will never happen, so I have no reason to continue. Maybe in another life…”

  Did she love him? Silver had no idea, she certainly had fondness for him that she had only truly ever had before with Theria. But was that the demon bond? Her mind raced.

  “He’ll die because you’re afraid.” Theria broke the news to her.

  “I’m not afraid. I simply cannot feel that deeply!” Silver retorted in a flash o
f anger.

  “You say that, yet you won’t try, not even to save his life.” Theria sounded disgusted.

  Silver’s mind raced. The logical, cold part of her said that assets died all the time. But the part of her that had grown since Romana’s soul integrated itself with her and she had found Theria was simply screaming at her to do anything to save this man. She couldn’t imagine returning to Dalmorin without him, or fighting without him by her side.

  He was going to die in her arms.

  Silver would rationalise away what she did next once she had had time to think properly, but something crippled within her – perhaps the remains of the heart she had once had – reached across the bond without her mind’s permission.

  “In the three thousand years since my childhood I have never considered attempting to feel that deeply, yet I have never known anything close to the bond of friendship which we share. If you live, I swear by my blood and the oath of honesty I gave you that I will allow you to attempt to teach me to feel affection once more.” The words were rushed, and tripped over each other, but they had the desired effect.

  Keenan’s eyes, which had been closing, opened in a flash of surprise before they darkened with a feral determination. She helped him to turn onto his stomach, and watched as his teeth elongated and he pressed his mouth to a spot above Alda’s heart. The woman’s shrieking was constant as she realised that she would die after achieving nothing.

  The blue mist that was Alda’s soul rose into Keenan’s mouth, and Silver almost collapsed with relief as the hole began to knit itself together. Her feelings slowly turned murderous as she realised that the thief had guilt-tripped and bargained with her on his deathbed and her familiar had helped him do it.

  She stood and turned away from where the halfling was pushing himself up onto his hands and knees only to find Grandmother Black hovering beside Alda, a look of great concentration on her haggard old face.

  A second blue mist floated from the old woman’s chest and into Alda’s body, and for a few seconds Silver wondered what on earth was going on before Alda began to rise again.