Spirit of the Sea Witch

by Tara West

  “Oh.” Dianna plastered on a wide smile and waved at the skeletal man.

  Feira wiped a trail of drool off Tumi’s lip. “He can’t see you either.”

  Dianna felt ten shades of foolish. “I’m sorry,” she said to Feira. She wondered how the old relic was still alive.

  “Silly child.” Feira laughed. “’Tis not your fault. I’m the selfish witch who keeps her three-hundred-year-old mortal husband alive through dark magic.” She affectionately stroked her husband’s cheek. “He is little more than a corpse, yet I can’t bear to part with him.”

  Dianna was at a loss for words. Feira fed Tumi a spoonful of soup. Most of the broth ran down his chin, and a servant wiped the old man as Feira tried feeding him again. Feira could have been nursing a stone statue. Forced to look away, Dianna stared at her food as her appetite vanished.

  The revelry at the table continued. People gorged on food and drink, waited on by their servants, ignoring the old witch and her frail husband.

  Dianna examined her golden spoon, amazed at how much it shone beneath the glow of the overhead candles. She had only ever eaten with wooden spoons. She pushed the food around on her plate, hoping her appetite would return despite the images of Tumi drooling all over himself that replayed in her mind.

  “’Twill be your fate should you ever fall in love.”

  Feira’s stare made Dianna’s flesh rise. Oh, heavenly Elements, it was as if the old woman’s gaze had crawled beneath her skin.

  “W-What?”

  “The powerful magic that runs through your veins will keep you alive for hundreds, perhaps thousands of years.” Feira dropped Tumi’s spoon on the table with a clatter. “There is no man on earth with magic as strong as yours, which means should you marry....” Feira motioned to her husband.

  Dianna pushed her plate away. “Well, ’tis a good thing I have no intention of marrying.”

  She’d never given it serious thought, but now she realized, should she ever fall in love, she would outlive him by centuries. She thought of her brothers, all mortal save Marcus, who had been born with the hunter’s mark. Even with his magical gift, she doubted he’d live longer than other men. She clutched her chest, feeling as if a poisoned dagger twisted in her heart. Unless she wanted to keep them barely alive like Tumi, she would lose everyone she ever loved.

  She looked at Feira through a sheen of tears. “What can I do?”

  Feira wiped Tumi’s chin. “There is nothing you can do. There is no magic in the universe powerful enough to stop a heart from breaking.” She wiped her wet fingers on a cloth before throwing it on her plate. “Believe me, child, my heart has broken for many of my people. Too, too many....”

  If only this was a dream, though Dianna knew this nightmare was real by the unrelenting pain in her chest. It was as if her heart had fractured into shards of ice. How could the Elements have been so cruel as to design her this way? If they had intended on goddesses and their children living forever, they should have created mates with similar powers. She pushed her chair away from the table and stood, heedless of the looks she was getting from the Kyanites.

  “Forgive me, cousin,” she said to Feira. ’Twas a long journey, and I’m exhausted.”

  “Oh, my dear.” Feira’s hand flew to her throat as she struggled to stand. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “Please don’t get up.” Dianna swiped a stray tear, angry with herself for letting the Kyanites see her cry. “Thank you so much for your hospitality.”

  Dianna turned, nearly running into the broad chest of one of her guards. Had he been behind her the entire time? She briefly stared into his dark eyes before sucking in a gasp when she saw one of his long braids had fallen behind his shoulder, revealing a left ear that looked as if it had been chewed off. What little was left of it was a shredded mass. The burly man tensed and tugged his braid back over his mangled ear.

  She quickly looked away, realizing she’d been rude, but she couldn’t stop wondering if her guard had been born with that deformity or something more sinister had happened to him. If so, why hadn’t a witch healed him?

  With a resigned sigh, she let her guards lead the way out of the hall. She held her head high, ignoring the sneers and laughter of the golden-eyed witches as they watched her go and feeling more alone than she’d ever felt in her life.

  Chapter Seven

  Rowlen was dead, killed by Alec after his father tried to murder Markus. His father’s spirit should have passed to the Elements months ago, yet his memory still haunted Alec in his sleep. Alec wasn’t sure if dreams of his father were figments of his imagination or something more.

  Alec knew this to be a dream, but the cool mountain breeze that ruffled his hair felt real. They were sitting outside in the rocking chairs Rowlen had built for himself and Mother. Rowlen looked at Alec, a gentle smile lightening his dark, normally sullen features. How odd, for Father had once knocked out Alec’s tooth for sitting in Mother’s special chair. He was compelled to look away from his father’s penetrating gaze, focusing instead on Mother’s herb garden. Markus and Mother weren’t in sight. In fact, not even a bird or squirrel crossed Alec’s line of vision.

  “You must trust in the dwarves.”

  “What?”

  “They did not steal it.”

  “Steal what?” Alec asked.

  But then, like all dreams, Rowlen faded away before Alec could ask him more questions, namely, why he haunted the son who’d stabbed him in the back. Rowlen didn’t seem bent on revenge. If anything, he appeared to want to help Alec. Even though he knew his father’s heart had been turned against him by Madhea’s curse, it was difficult reconciling this kind spirit with his late father. He had so many questions. Why did he slip away? And what had been stolen? Alec feared the answer would come to him when he woke. Elements save them all if the stone was missing.

  * * *

  Dianna tossed and turned, getting a fitful night’s sleep while alternating between wayward thoughts of Simeon’s devilish grin, worrying over her brothers, the fate of humanity, and dreading the possibility of a long, lonely existence. She awoke groggy and in a sour mood to a sharp pain in her gut, as if pixies were gnawing on her insides. She sat up, tossing silken sheets off her legs and regretting that she hadn’t slept with Lydra, but coward that she was, she’d been too afraid to test Tan’yi’na again. She was determined not to be deterred by fear this morning, but first, she needed to eat before those pixies in her stomach rioted.

  Though there were no windows in her secluded cavern, the bright wall sconces gave the room ample light. Someone had to have lit them when she was asleep. Dianna didn’t know whether to be concerned or relieved she hadn’t heard anyone enter her room. She padded over to a small dining table, pleased to see a display fit for a queen. The table was adorned with a fresh vase of yellow flowers, but it was the steaming platters of food that made her mouth water. There were large rolls and fresh butter, ham, eggs, slices of colorful fruit, and a tall pitcher of a bright orange drink. She didn’t know if this spread was all for her, or if she was to have company, but she didn’t care. She sat at the table and ate her fill, then ate some more.

  By the time she was finished, she’d eaten more in one morning than she usually ate in an entire day. She vaguely remembered the food being succulent and flavorful, but she’d ingested it so fast, she hadn’t taken the time to savor it. After she relieved herself in the chamber pot—at least she’d hoped it was a chamber pot—she washed in her private pool and then dressed in the clothes laid out for her. This time she was pleasantly surprised to see a soft pair of white breeches included in her wardrobe, though they were too thin and revealing to wear alone. She had to wrap a skirt around her waist. The top was a scrap of cloth that barely covered her chest, with straps for sleeves. Again, she thought of the people of Adolan and how they’d snicker if they saw her.

  She turned when the door cracked open, surprised to see a child tiptoe into her room. The girl was smaller than her youngest
brother and slender, hair woven into several small braids pulled up into a single knot on top of her head and held in place by an array of beautiful leaves and flowers. Her brown dress appeared to be sewn together from patches of earth and her sandals woven from dried grass. The girl smelled as fragrant as a freshly cut bouquet, no doubt because of her earthy attire. Dianna was taken aback by the girl, whose bright golden eyes sparkled like jewels against her ebony skin.

  “Hello,” the child said, sitting at the breakfast table and dipping her finger in the butter before spreading it on a roll.

  “Hello.” Dianna pulled out a chair and sat across from the girl. “Who are you?”

  “Kyani,” she answered before biting into her bread.

  Dianna leaned against the table, smiling. “That’s a pretty name.”

  Kyani gulped the remainder of Dianna’s juice before slamming the goblet on the table and letting out an impressive belch. “I’m named after our beloved goddess.”

  “So you are.” She leaned back in her chair, doing her best to hide her smile.

  Kyani snatched a flower out of the vase. “But you can call me Sprout. Everyone else does.”

  “Sprout?” Such an unflattering name for a beautiful child. “But Kyani is so much prettier.”

  Kyani cradled the flower in her arms as if she was holding a newborn babe. Dianna’s eyes widened when the flower grew and sprouted more flowers, a long stem shooting out of Kyani’s arms and wrapping around her chair. Kyani laid the bouquet on the table and took another bite of her roll. Then she grabbed another flower from the vase, and it, too, blossomed.

  “Your magic is quite good, Sprout,” Dianna said to the girl. The nickname suited her perfectly.

  “Thank you.” She slipped out of her chair and skipped over to Dianna’s bed. She touched a thin trail of ivy growing up the stone wall behind the headboard. The ivy sprouted and branched across the wall, wrapping around the posters of the bed.

  Dianna followed the girl, sitting on the opposite side of the bed, amazed as the ivy continued to stretch across the ceiling. “How old are you?”

  “I am seven summers old,” Sprout answered, twirling a dangling vine around her finger. The girl seemed unimpressed with her own magic, as if making plants grow at an alarming rate was second nature.

  Desryn had been about her size when he was that age. “You are a few years younger than my baby brother.”

  Sprout’s gold eyes dazzled beneath the glow of the flickering wall sconces. “Does he have magic like you?”

  “No.” She swallowed, realizing it was a bad idea to speak of Des. Memories of her brother only brought her heartache now that she knew his time on earth would be short compared to hers. “He is a mortal.”

  “That’s too bad.” Sprout coaxed more ivy to spread across the ceiling and wrap around Dianna’s bed. “Is he your servant?”

  “Of course not!” She remembered the brown-eyed Kyanites from last night, how they must have been forced into servitude because they lacked magical powers. “Are you lost, Sprout?”

  “No.” She touched plants that sprouted off the ivy, coaxing little white flowers out of their pods. “Why would you think that?”

  “Can I help you with something?” As amusing as this child was, Dianna needed to check on Lydra. She didn’t have time to play nursemaid.

  “Grandmother says Simeon is sulking.” Sprout flashed a sideways smile before turning back to her flowering pods. “I’m here to take you to the gardens.”

  “Sulking, is he?” Did the child know more than she was letting on?

  Sprout picked a flower, handing it to Dianna. “My brother’s not used to rejection.”

  Dianna smelled the fragrant petals, looking at Sprout from beneath her lashes. “I didn’t know Simeon had a sister.” Hopefully, that meant Sprout was one of the few Shifting Sands girls immune to his charms.

  “Twelve sisters,” Sprout said, handing Dianna another flower. “We all have strong magic, like our parents.”

  “Simeon has twelve sisters?” And all witches, at that. Dianna had never known other witches growing up, especially since suspected witches in Adolan were sacrificed to Madhea. She twirled the soft stem between her fingers, wondering if she’d seen any of the girls before, perhaps one of the few who hadn’t shot eye daggers at her yesterday. “How many brothers does he have?”

  “He’s the only boy in our family.”

  “Oh, heavenly Elements.” No wonder he was so adept at manipulating females. He’d probably had plenty of practice with his sisters.

  “You should be happy.” When Sprout flashed a mischievous grin, the same as her brother’s, Dianna expected to see devilish horns shoot from the child’s head.

  “Why is that?” It was hard not to punch a nearby wall. Even if she were to succumb to Simeon’s charms, or any man’s for that matter, their passion would be doused by time while Dianna lingered on alone for an eternity.

  “That’s twelve less girls you will have to fight off Simeon.” Sprout giggled.

  Dianna jumped up and tossed the flowers on the bed before she gave in to the urge to stomp on them. “I’m not fighting anyone over Simeon.”

  “Grandmother says you will.” Sprout flashed a far too knowing look for a child of seven.

  The flush of embarrassment flamed Dianna’s cheeks like a rush of venom. “Your grandmother must be mistaken.” Her humiliation quickly turned to anger. Why would Feira say such a thing after she’d warned Dianna she’d outlive any man?

  Sprout vehemently shook her head. “She’s seen it in the swirling mists.”

  Dianna paced the floor, fighting back the anger that threatened to split her skull in two. The swirling mists? Markus had told Dianna about that nonsense. The prophet used it to see into the future. Or so he said. Well, those swirling mists didn’t control her destiny. She’d make sure of it. She exhaled a shaky breath and turned to Sprout. “About these gardens?”

  Sprout jumped off the bed, long strands of ivy trailing after her like a toddler chasing her mother. She waved the ivy back. “Grandmother said you’d want to see them.”

  “That sounds wonderful.” She clasped her hands together. If Sprout could control vegetation so easily, no wonder her people dined on such delicious fruits and grains. Still, Dianna couldn’t get ahead of herself. Lydra had been left alone with Tan’yi’na all night. Even though the menacing dragon had given his word no harm would come to Lydra, she didn’t trust him. “I must check on my dragon first.”

  “Okay, but Grandmother says I must accompany you so Tan’yi’na doesn’t eat you.”

  Dianna couldn’t help but laugh. “Thank you, but if he intends to eat me, I don’t think you can stop him.”

  Sprout squinted up at her, looking at her as if she’d sprouted flowers out of her ears. “Of course, I can.”

  This small child against Tan’yi’na? How would she defend herself? Throw flowers at him?

  Dianna held the door open, and Sprout led the way. “Forgive me if I have my doubts.”

  * * *

  Gorpat startled Alec with a loud, blubbery snort before turning on her side and snoring in the other direction. Alec awoke with a stiff neck and a sore back, the result of a fitful night’s sleep, no thanks to the giant’s bear-like noises. She changed position again, kicking a tree and snapping it in two before moaning about the “bad witch.” Whatever the giant was dreaming about, it certainly wasn’t pleasant.

  Alec let out a frustrated sigh. No use trying to go back to sleep, for it wasn’t just the giant who’d disturbed his slumber. When he wasn’t waking up to check on the dwarves and the ice people, he was dreaming of Rowlen’s ghost. Even as Alec looked up at the dawn’s rays, peeking through the canopy of trees, he could still feel his father’s haunted gaze on him. As he tried to recall his dream, he was almost certain Rowlen had warned him about something. But what? He vaguely remembered they had been sitting in rocking chairs.

  Alec couldn’t help but wonder if his dreams were somethin
g more, a way for his father to relay a message from beyond the grave. Whatever Rowlen had to say, Alec wished he’d get it out instead of torturing him each night.

  He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and then rose from his bedroll, shaking off the morning chill. A few dwarves were up, tending the fire, and the ice dwellers still slept. Hopefully Ryne would wake up in a better mood, though Alec wasn’t counting on it. He shuffled toward the fire, which had shrunk considerably since last night, leaving behind a few angry embers. He held his hands over the warmth, then rubbed his arms.

  When Zier hobbled up to him, offering a hot cup of black coffee and a pie, Alec thanked him. The buttery crust, though slightly stale, was still the most delicious he’d ever eaten. The sweet fruit and nut filling inside awoke Alec’s senses, and he moaned with every bite. Grim joined them, and the trio drank and ate while staring into the pit.

  Alec was wiping his hands on his vest and thanking Zier for the delicious breakfast when a commotion from the end of camp drew his attention.

  Ven was kicking his bedroll and screaming wildly. “It’s gone! It’s gone! My stone is gone!”

  Ryne jumped up and pushed Ven aside. He forced the other ice dwellers out of their bedrolls and tore through them like a snow bear mauling its prey. When he turned toward the camp empty-handed, the violence in his eyes made Alec’s knees go weak.

  “Thief!” Ryne unsheathed his blade, charging Zier like a warrior heading into battle.

  Alec had only a second to spring into action. Ryne’s blade scraped his neck when he slammed into him, pushing him back while Ryne fought to get past. Alec was hardly aware of the stinging pain or the warm trickle of blood that dripped down to his shoulder. He’d survived much worse at his father’s hands. He could handle a mad blue man.

  “Drop it!” Alec hollered, trying to knock the weapon out of Ryne’s hands.

  Ryne was far more skilled in combat than Alec, easily deflecting him and striking a painful blow to Alec’s nose with the blunt end of his blade. Stars swam in Alec’s vision, and he tripped over his own feet, falling hard on his arse. Luckily, Tar jumped between them, growling and making Ryne back up a few steps.