The Legend of Vanx Malic Books I-IV Bundle: To Kill a Witch

by M. R. Mathias

  Vanx saw the tearful parting of the two on a Flotsam quay, and felt strange knowing he was inside that mounded belly as his mother strode down the dock away from that last deadly voyage.

  He watched the images until the end. He saw the storm, the lightning and the sheets of torrential rain. He watched the huge, cresting swells as they tossed and turned the Foamfollower.

  Stinging tears had blurred his vision, so he didn’t notice the streaking sea ray that had crashed into the ship on the far side of the image, but he watched on with rapt attention as his father sent his crew away on the longboats and stood firm when the front of his ship raised high and slid down into the swallowing sea. At the last moment, Captain Marin Saint Elm mouthed a prayer and his voice carried to Vanx as clearly as if he were whispering in his son’s ear.

  “Forgive me, Nepton,” his father said as he sank into the sea. “I’ve served you for as long as I can remember and I intended no blasphemy to you when I forged a bond that was even deeper than you could fathom. I do not blame you for your jealousy and I come willingly to your embrace in hopes that you will lend your ever-flowing grace to my unborn child so that his mother may know the joy of him.”

  More was said but the words were filled with salty liquid and choked away. Vanx’s heart swelled with sadness and pride, even though sobs were coming from his own deep places.

  He finally glimpsed the father he had never met, and in a way that validated all that his mother had ever told him of the man. Vanx also saw the way she always defended her choice of mates to her people. Her life had been no easy one, but she stayed true to her heart and the man she loved. The fact that his father’s dying thoughts had been of him gave Vanx a renewed confidence, and the hopelessness of the situations with Gallarael and Pwca took on a new perspective.

  Two days had passed since Vanx scattered the Hoar Witch’s horde and fed the old crone to Sissy. Out of mercy he killed Clytun’s body, but he decided he would use the prospect of a painless death to get information out of the Hoar Witch for a very long time.

  Thorn and Poops had gone through the forest back to the Shadowmane. Vanx was locating and evaluating the quality of magical artifacts, devices and potions that Aserica Rime had collected. Some were dangerous to keep around and would have to be destroyed, but some would be more useful, so he still needed her knowledge.

  The cold, cruel way in which he taunted and teased Aserica Rime and the demeanor that he took on to protect his own heart in those days, was something he was glad no one else shared. A few times he frightened himself, but he had no choice. He had every intention of getting Gallarael away from Pwca, and hopefully without giving away the powerful jewel whose magic had driven the Trigon away so long ago.

  When Thorn returned with a hobbled but jovial Darl and some of the fairy folk, Poops stayed behind to give Chelda comfort. She still couldn’t leave the bounds of the Underland and was recovering from several wounds. Darl told Vanx how Gallarael had vowed to find and help him, even if it cost her life, and Vanx decided maybe it was up to the gods to prevent events such as evil wars and devil-wrought mischief. It was in his power to save his friend. What happened after that wasn’t really in his control, no matter what he did.

  Follow your heart, the mantra of his goddess kept repeating itself. His heart told him to give the slimy little devil the Tokaton and be done with him, but knowing that wars would rage and thousands of lives might be lost by doing so, he hemmed and hawed and balked. He didn’t want such destruction to weigh on his conscience. He also knew that if Gallarael could make the choice herself, she would save the lives of all the innocent fae.

  This reasoning brought on another line of distasteful thought because the little rat master would certainly use Gallarael to influence King Oakarm if Vanx didn’t get her free. Then thousands of different lives would be lost.

  Making a decision on the matter became maddening. It was ultimately a choice of loyalty, and in the end the mantra won out, for Vanx’s heart told him to get Gallarael away from the turdish devil and hold her close, no matter what future the act might cause.

  She was a loyal and trusted friend and he knew he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he let her come to harm or be used by the dark one’s minions. So it was that he used the pool, and the foul-tasting powder, to summon Pwca for the exchange.

  While they waited for the devil’s rat horde to shoulder Gallarael’s body back across the Lurr, Thorn detailed the condition of Chelda and the Heart Tree.

  Chelda had been burned by the acidic juice of some fruit. She would have some scars, but otherwise she was only bruised, and trapped in the Underland. That was bad.

  The tree’s golden nectar was still dripping from jagged stumps where limb and branch had been ruthlessly torn away. The Troika Sven, the oracle, and the rest of the fae were doing all they could to clear away the corpses of the witchborn beasts, lest their blood seep too deeply into the soil and infect the tree. Others were using magical and herbal means to try to help it begin healing, but it didn’t look hopeful.

  “Chelda will die if the tree dies, Vanx,” said Thorn with tears welling in his amber eyes.

  “Even if another king or queen is born, it will be years maybe before such a being can release her from the Underland.”

  The way Thorn dropped his head showed plainly the shame he felt.

  “She didn’t deserve this.” When his eyes met Vanx’s, he spoke his feelings honestly and plainly. “I don’t think the tree will survive the season. Remember that as you haggle with Pwca, for maybe he can help.”

  “The oracle said that there was another way,” Vanx reminded the distraught elven general.

  “I know. It might work, and I will gladly make the sacrifice required, but only if there is no other way.”

  Those words seemed to pain the elf the most and they weren’t spoken with any sort of resolve.

  “I’m sorry, Vanx, but my first duty is to save the Heart Tree, to never give up. If the tree dies, we will, too.” Only then did Vanx realize that in a very subtle way the elf was using Chelda’s life and freedom to get Vanx to broaden his bargain with Pwca. It was clear that Thorn had no taste for the course, but he was taking it, as a general must.

  The flare of frustrated anger that fired through Vanx’s neck and cheeks caused Thorn’s eyes to find his boots. Vanx began to feel that icy resolve he’d garnered while torturing the Hoar Witch. He tried to quell it before he took things too far.

  “Listen, you, either you will do everything you can, make every sacrifice you must to release Chelda Flar from the Underland, or I will call for the Hoar Witch’s horde to return and finish the destruction they started.”

  Vanx’s rage spent itself as he spoke. He ended with a heavy sigh and a snarl at the elf’s now wide-eyed gaze.

  “Now, General Posy-Thorn, what course of action is best for your Heart Tree?”

  “You’re as cold as she was,” Thorn’s lips trembled as he spoke. He appeared to be about to burst into more tears because Vanx wouldn’t try to help him.

  “No, General Posy-Thorn,” Vanx shook his head. “I’m far colder than she ever was, and be glad of it, for if I weren’t, and I had Pwca revive the Heart Tree with his vile power, then it would ever after know that stain.”

  Thorn started to reply, but the sound of Pwca’s squeaking procession drew their attention. His rats were beginning to pour into the open entryway of the crystal-formed stronghold.

  Under his breath, Vanx whispered to Thorn,

  “Your queen didn’t give into evil to save her realm, nor should you.”

  “Where is it?” Pwca’s voice reached them before they could ever see him or Gallarael. An undulating carpet of brown fur and beady, pink eyes spread away from the entryway where the rats had entered. None of them would cross the threshold that led into Rimehold, but the covered entryway was filled to the brim with them.

  “Show me she is alive,” Vanx called out over the shin-high mass of vermin. “Let her speak to me w
ith her own voice.”

  “Show me the Tokaton first.” Vanx saw that Gallarael’s stiff body was gliding forth like a ship across the wiggling brown sea. Reclining triumphantly on her abdomen was the little devil.

  Vanx turned and retrieved the foot-high, wire-framed cube that held the sparkling gem and held it aloft for the approaching devil to see.

  “Take it out of the enclosure,” Pwca demanded.

  Vanx expected this. Aserica had told him that the little devil would have stolen the Tokaton long ago had she not locked it into the dimensional cube. As long as it was in the box, only witch blood could retrieve it. Vanx would have to drip a drop of his own blood onto the magical lock for it to open. In the event his didn’t work, he had a small vial of the Hoar Witch’s blood in his pocket.

  “Only after I see that she is well, will I open the case,” declared Vanx. By then Gallarael’s body had stopped at the edge of the threshold. Between her and Vanx was the twenty-pace-long, ten-pace-wide covered entry. The floor couldn’t be seen for the writhing mass atop it.

  “If she fights us she will be stripped to the bone in a matter of heartbeats,” Pwca threatened.

  “Your rats couldn’t even get their teeth through her thick skin before she reached my side, devil,” Vanx replied.

  He’d watched Gallarael’s last few days in the reflecting mirror, and knew this to be true.

  “But that’s neither here nor there. I’m not the Hoar Witch. I care little for this fancy stone.”

  “Very well,” Pwca agreed and slid from Gallarael’s body onto the back of one of the larger rats. As soon as he was off of her, she began to stir. After a moment, the rats beneath her lowered her to the tiles and gave her a few inches of space. It took her a moment, but eventually she sat up and blinked at her surroundings.

  “Where am I?” she rasped.

  “It’s alright, Gallarael,” Vanx said.

  “We’re here.”

  Her eyes focused on Vanx and Thorn, and what might have been a smile formed on her feral face. She started to get up and come to him, but the rats began hissing and baring their little teeth. Vanx put up a hand, palm out, to keep her standing in place. Gallarael’s wild smile faded and confused anger took its place.

  “She is alive and well, warlock,”

  Pwca’s evil voice had a giddy childish quality to it, even though it sounded like mountains being leveled by thunder. “Now take out the Tokaton and let us make this exchange.”

  Vanx nodded. Thorn held out the tip of the old battle-worn sword he now wore, and Vanx sliced his thumb on it. He let a fat, purple drop plop onto the etched fastener that held the cube’s glassine lid in place. A long moment passed as the blood sizzled and hissed on the runes carved there. Then the lid popped open and immediately the Tokaton’s power radiated forth, causing the hair on a million rats to stand on end. All at once Gallarael hissed and Vanx felt hackles that he didn’t have go rippling up his spine.

  Vanx could taste the power as it filled the air with raw static. The taste reminded him of summer lightning on the Isle of Zyth and he wondered just how much damage the devil might do with such a powerful thing. He already knew that once Pwca took it to his own plane, the protective magic from it would evaporate and allow the Trigon’s evil to reclaim these lands. It was too late to worry about that, he decided, and he lifted the jewel out of its case.

  As Pwca led Gallarael to the threshold, Vanx felt an odd yet familiar discomfort in his chest. More, he felt a vibrating tingle sliding from the Tokaton into his palm from where he held it. The sensation worked through his arm and into his shoulder and upper body. From there the feeling eased below his collar. The intensity was deeply unsettling and grew more and more painful as each moment passed.

  “Hand me the stone as she crosses the threshold and our deal will be done,” Pwca said.

  Vanx tossed Pwca the Tokaton as Gallarael stepped to his side. The devil more deflected it than caught it, and it went bouncing across the sea of rats like a glittering sailboat with Pwca hurrying along behind it on his mount.

  No sooner had the excited little thing and its horde retreated from the entryway did Vanx succumb to the power that was now searing a hole through his chest. As if his bones had been liquefied, he crumpled to a heap on the crystal floor at Gallarael’s feet.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  They brag and kill and waste.

  This earth they call their own.

  Never here, Oh never will they

  call our island home.

  – Balladamned (A Zythian song)

  In some half-lidded break in his unconsciousness, Vanx saw Gallarael shift to her normal self. She was crouching down to worry over him, as was Thorn. In the fading distance, or maybe from somewhere within him, a dog barked anxiously and several tiny voices peeped and babbled. Then a misty cloud enveloped him and he began to float.

  There was no panic or worry in this place, for Vanx knew it well. It was the realm of his goddess, or at least that part of it where she spoke to him. He began to wonder if he had failed her in some way, if his choices had been the wrong ones, because as she took form in the mist, he saw a scowl of disapproval on her beautiful face and the irritated posture of her perfectly rounded body. With her hands on her hips she narrowed her brows and seemed to be searching for words.

  “Did I fail you?”

  Vanx’s voice was a croak. He rolled himself to his knees and bowed before her.

  “Not so much,” she said. He looked up to see that her visage had softened slightly.

  “You were very rude to Foxwise Posy-Thorn and that irritates me greatly. You might be my emerald-eyed champion, Vanx, but you are not the only one in the earthly realms who has earned my favor.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Apologize to Thorn, not to me. And from now on, you let Gallarael or General Posy-Thorn deal with Aserica Rime. You’ve come too close to the edge, but you do need to glean as much from her as you can before Pwca finds a way to kill her.”

  “Why would Pwca kill her now?”

  She giggled and shook her head. “You didn’t figure it out, did you? You were really just following your heart? Oh, Vanx.” A girlish sigh of pure adoration escaped her.

  “What do you mean?” Vanx felt himself blushing, but wasn’t sure why.

  “Pwca still owes Aserica Rime a single deed. He cannot go back into his own plane and hide the Tokaton until he is released from that debt. He must kill her or grant her that last request to be freed from her service. I suspect that her last request will most likely be for him to kill her.”

  “If the Tokaton cannot be taken into the hells, then its power will still keep the Trigon away,” Vanx spoke the realization aloud.

  “Yes,”

  She looked at him lovingly and shook her head again. “I’m glad your heart is so loyal and true to your friends, Vanx, for you are just now beginning to see.”

  “I–” he lost his voice as another swell of embarrassment flushed his cheeks.

  “Listen to me closely, Vanx, for time is growing short for the Heart Tree. Take the silva leaf I gave you to the Shadowmane and bury it at the base of the Heart Tree. While you were holding the Tokaton it drew a good portion of that power into itself through your body, enough to quicken the clipping, I hope, so that even if Pwca manages to get away with his gem, the Deep will still be protected when the Trigon comes.”

  She paused and held Vanx’s eyes then. “They will come, Vanx, and it’s not any fault of yours, but I will expect you to learn as much about your witchborn power as you can before they do. It will take our combined might, the entire host of Parydonia, and then some, to oppose them. I know it will be harder for you to gather this knowledge because I forbid you to deal with the Hoar Witch any further, but that is the way it must be. You cannot succumb to the darkness.”

  She brushed her long, graceful fingers through her misty hair and took a deep breath. Even formed of insubstantial substance, she managed to stir Vanx’s more primit
ive desires.

  “You’ll make a bargain with Thorn, one you’ll not understand now, but that in time you’ll come to see the wisdom of. He is not to give his essence to free Chelda Flar. Chelda will agree. I think she would rather spend her time with Moonsy than anyone.”

  She told him her wishes and bade him to hurry.

  “When I return you, even if you run the entire way back to the Shadowmane, and dig like a gopher once you get there, you might not be able to get the silva leaf buried in time to save the Heart Tree. I will trust you to use what is at your disposal to get this done.”

  With that she was gone.

  Vanx opened his eyes to see Gallarael looking down at him with tears running down her cheeks. Her dark, short hair framed her face severely and Vanx decided to tell her that he liked it long and golden. She was patting at his brow and ignoring both Darl and Thorn, who were making suggestions of remedies for a sudden lapse in consciousness. Vanx couldn’t help but smile. If he wasn’t in such a hurry now, he might have closed his eyes and just listened to the concern and admiration coming from his friends. Instead, he rose and kissed Gallarael’s forehead.

  “I’m sorry about Xavian and the rest of this mess.” He pulled her down and gave her a gentle hug. “We will talk of it later, though. There is something I must attend to immediately.”

  “Thorn, I ask your forgiveness for the way I spoke to you earlier.”

  Vanx rose to a knee, but didn’t stand.

  “I hope you know that I would never follow through with a threat like that. In truth, it isn’t in me.”

  “Bah!” the elf explained. “I already know that, Vanx. I’m just glad you are alright.”

  “Good, then,” Vanx stood. “If you want me to save your Heart Tree, then I’ve got a different bargain for you.”

  Vanx turned and started into the stronghold, found the stairway, and motioned for Thorn and the others to follow. “Hurry,” he added over his shoulder as he started down into the depths of the palace.