Sorceress (The Cross-Worlds Coven Series Book 4)

by Phil Stern

  Saja slowed to a halt about fifty yards from the settlement, allowing Caylee to study the village outskirts. On this pleasant evening many people could be seen wandering about, several tending large, open pits in preparation for dinner. As advertised, the native Lysanders seemed to have a very basic level of sophistication, carrying only sticks, pots, and other rudimentary utensils. As to weapons, nothing obvious was in view.

  As to magic, a careful scan revealed no wards or trip wires of any kind. This was in line with the initial survey reports, which indicated the human population had no such abilities.

  Which raised an interesting conundrum. How could such a basic culture possibly survive in this wildly unpredictable, often harsh dimension? As far as Caylee could tell, you’d need either strong magic or technology to survive here. Yet the native Lysanders appeared to have neither.

  Still, from a distance they seemed happy enough. Thoughtfully stroking Saja’s mane in the early evening twilight, the sorceress heard laugher and singing emanating from all about the village, along with childish cries and playful banter. A pleasant melody from a crude flute-like instrument carried outward on the evening air. Indeed, it almost seemed as if these people hadn’t a care in the world.

  Only now did Caylee notice that all four tigers had stealthily peeled off and slipped into the growing darkness. Upon reflection, this made plenty of sense. Even with a sorceress to vouch for them, no doubt the villagers would be quite alarmed at the sudden appearance of large predators among them. Having not thought of this herself, the enchantress was very glad for the feline’s discretion.

  On second thought, it might make sense for Caylee herself to simply remain here, outside the village, and let the inhabitants come to her. After all, some people might feel threatened by an uninvited stranger boldly wandering into town. So instead of urging Saja forward, the young operative merely remained in place, smiling hopefully at the nearest huts.

  A menlar went by, then another. Without question, several of the closer villagers had clearly noticed the strange girl and her unicorn, yet no one made the slightest move to come out and greet her. Nor, for that matter, did anyone seem particularly concerned. It was almost as if they were indifferent to her presence either way.

  Frowning, Caylee wondered if she was somehow making the wrong impression? After all, she probably didn’t look her best. Slightly embarrassed, the young sorceress leapt down from Saja’s back and quickly combed her hair. A tiny burst of earth fire gave her jeans, shirt, and boots a crisp new sheen, while the formal svelte black gloves were a nice touch.

  Even after two action-filled days in a fantasy world, the young sorceress knew she now looked quite presentable. No doubt the villagers would want to come out and greet her now. Patiently standing on the edge of the plain by her unicorn, Caylee awkwardly shifted from one booted foot to the other, waiting.

  Yet she was soon forced to reluctantly conclude that no one cared. From time to time a villager would glance up, stare across the prairie in her general direction for some moments, then return to their tasks. But that was all. It was like the sudden appearance of a Haven sorceress, charging over the Lysandy plains with unicorns and battle hawks in tow, was yesterday’s news.

  Idly fingering her earth stone, the magical operative felt an odd tinge of frustration. What was going on here? No, she certainly hadn’t expected a brass band, but maybe something? A few people walking out to greet her, perhaps? Whatever else, Caylee certainly wasn’t used to being ignored.

  Then she realized the obvious. A princess doesn’t wait for anyone, while naturally demanding everyone’s full attention.

  Letting out an irritated sigh, Caylee peremptorily dispersed a gentle magical pulse over the village. As Jarob obediently soared through the invisible aura, she was able to grab a few visual images directly from the battle hawk’s retinas.

  As she’d suspected, Pend was stealing all her thunder. About a hundred yards away, in what passed for the village square, the tiger cub was regally accepting greetings from the local citizenry. Sitting on a raised, flat rock, it almost appeared as if Pend had ascended some rough throne. Like handmaidens, a half-dozen mesmerized villager girls were half-kneeling about the royal presence, eagerly scratching and petting the cub to her heart’s desire. Pend’s feline guard also diffidently lounged about, with children reverently petting them as well. Other adults hovered about in close attendance, ready to instantly intercede if any of the cats found the slightest fault with all their attention.

  Rubbing her brow, Caylee let out a long sigh. Then, leaving her equine and aviary companions behind, she pointedly walked right up to the nearest huts.

  This merely drew a few more pointed stares from the outlying natives, though no one attempted to interfere. Continuing into the village itself, she strode straight to Pend’s impromptu court. Along the way several people wordlessly got out of her way, still saying nothing. Coolly staring straight ahead, the sorceress refused to feel like an interloper.

  Indeed, this treatment continued right up until Caylee’s entrance into the center square. Pend herself warbled a tired greeting, hopping down from her perch and darting over for a quick leg rub. Utterly shocked at this royal familiarity, everyone stared in wonder as the sorceress idly rubbed Pend’s head.

  “Hello. My name is Caylee,” she softly announced. “I’m a visitor here. Is there anybody that speaks for your village?”

  Before anyone could respond, the princess leapt up to grab Caylee’s arm in a playful cat hug, nearly pulling the young witch over. When can you sparkle up some more tuna fish? she gushed. It was really, really good!

  Awkwardly fending the young cat off as best she could, Caylee observed that everyone was very young. In fact, there wasn’t a single person that seemed to be over thirty. Most of the population, in fact, appeared to be in the late teens to early twenties. Every villager also had a small wavy line on their skin behind their right earlobe. Was it a tattoo? Some kind of common birth mark? She wasn’t quite sure.

  As she was pondering this, a boy of twelve or so now hesitantly stepped forward, holding out his hands in an obvious sign of greeting. “Great goddess, our priestess is not here now. Would it please you to accept our humble hospitality and speak with her in the morning?”

  At this, another girl about the same age approached with a rough wooden cup. Holding it up to her as best she could, the girl stayed well clear of Pend, who by now had tiredly sprawled across Caylee’s boots.

  “Oh, I’m not a goddess,” Caylee assured them, taking the warm cup with a smile of thanks. “I’m just…”

  “But you have powers!” a man in his mid-20's objected, vaguely motioning out to the plains where Tornado, Saja, and Lewn still waited. “We have already seen them! And who but a goddess has a great horned stallion as their champion?”

  Well, from their perspective, Caylee could see his point, even if she’d just freshened up her clothes. “Okay, but let’s not say goddess. Perhaps, um, sorceress would be a better word?” At least that title lacked the hint of divine authority the Coven generally avoided.

  “Sorceress!” the man eagerly agreed. “Yes, please. Come and eat with us. Then we will find a suitable sleeping place for you.”

  So Caylee did sit down and have some soup with the villagers. It actually wasn’t too bad. Large bowls were also served to the cats. This was done with great reverence, as if they were people too. Pend didn’t like it as much as the tuna fish, but Caylee told her to be quiet and eat.

  Sixty menlars later, Caylee was shown to her guest quarters. It turned out to be a smallish barn on the far side of the village closest to the mountain base.

  Mildly surprised, she quickly realized the Lysanders naturally assumed she’d want to sleep with all her animals. And since they would obviously be more comfortable in a barn…

  Caylee let out a deep sigh, yet smiled reassuringly to her hosts. It wasn’t perfect, but she’d have to make do. The past was the past, and sleeping once more in a barn wasn�
��t the end of the world.

  As it turned out, Pend and her three royal guards did promptly teleport in and make themselves at home. Calling in her own crew from the nearby plain, she first made sure Tornado was comfortable, then gave Saja a good rubdown. Both the mare and young stallion were soon asleep on their feet.

  Luckily, the villagers had more of that wonderfully restorative grass that Pend had first brought her. Fashioning almost an entire nest of the stuff in the half-loft, Lewn was soon reclining in comfort. At this rate, the battle hawk would be up and flying about again in a few days. Jarob soon flapped up and joined her, eyes whirling down at his sorceress in contentment.

  Well, if the battle hawks clearly didn’t sense any danger, Caylee could try to relax as well. With Pend cuddled up by her legs in the soft hay, the sorceress fitfully drifted off to sleep.

  CHAPTER SIX

  BOLTING AWAKE THE next morning, Caylee pushed herself up on one elbow. Her face was burning, almost as if she’d been splashed once again with ronga blood. Glancing around in alarm, a frightened hand raised to one cheek, the enchantress fully expected to feel slick, purple ooze once more sizzling on her skin.

  But there was nothing. The “burning” was merely the gentle caress of an early morning sunbeam peeking through a crack in the wood and hitting her cheek just so.

  Still, the sorceress couldn’t fully shake the terrors chasing her throughout the night. Fully sitting up in the now scratchy hay, her breathing still hard and ragged, images from the nightmare resonated throughout Caylee’s mind.

  She’d been back home, in Anslaw, banished to the barn once more for some perceived misdeed. As usual, her brutal father had sent her there with a resounding slap to the head, delivered right in the middle of their cheerless dinner. This, she came to realize later, allowed Dad to finish her thin soup himself. Caylee’s mother had long before ceased objecting to this treatment, accepting that she had little protection to offer her only daughter.

  And really, what could she do? As serfs, their family had virtually no rights to begin with. They were lucky to have their tiny farmstead at all. Any complaints to their lord about domestic matters might well get them all kicked out for good.

  So Dad drank himself into a daily stupor, and on a good night only beat his family a little bit. So what? In Anslaw, that’s just the way things worked.

  So she’d fearfully crossed the small yard yet again, strewn with rocks and tools dangerous to a young child. Anslaw had no moon, the dark nights lacking almost all illumination. Once she’d badly cut her foot on a rusty hoe. On another occasion, Caylee had tripped and hit the ground very hard. Things were better when she shuffled, the young girl had soon discovered. The worst that could happen then was a stubbed toe.

  Finally reaching the sanctuary of the barn, she’d gratefully swung the door open and slipped inside. The animals generally grunted, whinnied, or oinked in pleasure, welcoming Caylee once more into their midst.

  Back then, before joining the Coven and learning of magic, she wasn’t able to actually talk to them. Still, even as a child she felt such a strong connection to the animal world, the wondrous creatures so kind and friendly. All the more so, perhaps, in that they suffered from a common oppressor, her father generally abusing and neglecting the farm animals even more than his own family.

  It was so terrible, too, when one of them would simply disappear, without explanation. The other sheep, goats, horses, and cows never knew why their older brethren would simply be led off one morning, never to return. How could they understand that once their usefulness to her awful father was at an end, they were simply sent off to slaughter? When young Caylee herself had first come to understand this simple yet cruel aspect of farm life, she’d cried for days on end.

  And as for the pigs, well, the mothers were blessedly ignorant of their children’s grim fate. Giving birth to great broods every spring, they’d watch their squealing piglets race around the barn and yard with wild abandon all summer. How proud the sows were, watching their young grow and flourish, until that inevitable fall day when they were all loaded up and carted off, never to be seen again.

  Yet the mother pigs never knew what happened to them. Somehow, Caylee was sure of that. Instead, they assumed all their wonderful piglets were out enjoying the world, having plenty of fun and marvelous adventures. During the long, cold winter, in fact, the sows liked to imagine them in some better, brighter world, where the sun shined all day and the chilly rains never came. They liked that, she was sure.

  So after crossing the yard, Caylee would generally bed down next to a sleeping cow. (The sheep and goats, she’d already painfully discovered, tended to nocturnal wandering and often stepped on her with their sharp hooves.) Burrowing deep into the hay, rage and fear still rampaging throughout her young soul, she’d try to get some sleep.

  Still, the frightening sounds from outside often made rest impossible. Soppy hay clinging to her tear-stained face, the tiny blonde girl would tremble as the gusty wind moaned and whistled about. Spare metal often rattled throughout the night, even blowing up against the outside walls with loud thuds. Sometimes, when a bold fox tried to actually invade her tenuous sanctum, there were scratches and growls from just beyond the thin door. To the young girl she once was, nights in the barn had been nothing short of terrifying.

  Even now, years later, Caylee’s dreams felt impossibly real, almost like she’d never left Anslaw at all. She could actually taste the hay between her teeth, smell the muck and the mire. Worst of all, perhaps, was the perpetual pit of fear deep in her small stomach, the pain and worry sometimes flaring outward to block out almost everything else.

  But this time, the nightmare had taken on an entirely new, terrifying aspect. Inexplicably, after finally falling asleep in the family barn, the young girl had been rocked awake by a fearsome ronga roar. The great lizard had boldly approached Caylee’s childhood refuge, great claws raking the barn door. The goats and sheep had stampeded in terror, the horses desperately bashing the back wall in their desperation to escape. Soon she was entirely alone, all the comforting animals now crowed in the barn’s rear, too far away to help.

  And as the ronga roared yet again, easily smashing through the barn door, Caylee had known she was doomed. Without magic to protect herself, or anyone else to turn to, she’d realized this was the end of her young life…

  Shaking her head, Caylee leapt up and stretched. By the stone, what was she doing? It was simply a dream, nothing more, based on events many years and untold dimensions behind her. This barn was intact, the rongas far away. In a few menlars, she well knew, the nightmare would recede into a disquieting ball, then fade away entirely. By lunchtime she’d barely even remember the details.

  Which is as it should be. Upon being rescued by the Coven, her horrible childhood in cold, dark Anslaw had come to an abrupt and suitable end. She wasn’t that powerless little girl anymore, and never would be again.

  Still, for some reason this latest nightmare had been unusually intense, effortlessly combining the dual traumas of her early years with the monsters of the Lysandy savannah. A subliminal message, perhaps, that one could never quite escape the horrors of youth? It was a depressing thought.

  Well, the good news was that Caylee’s nocturnal terrors hadn’t unduly disturbed her companions. Saja and Tornado still slept soundly, while a fully awake Lewn stared down at her in vague contentment. Jarob was gone, the battle hawk having no doubt slipped out for a dawn patrol.

  All four tigers, she now belatedly noticed, were also gone. That crew clearly came and went as they pleased. Still, Caylee hoped they were staying out of trouble. While not directly responsible for their conduct, the villagers might naturally blame any problems on the person who seemingly brought them here.

  At this point someone walked directly up to the half-closed bar door, politely knocking. Despite herself, Caylee spun about in fear, a magical shield instinctively cloaking her entire body. Alarmed on her behalf, Lewn shrieked a fearsome challeng
e, spreading her uninjured wing. This brought the two equines to instant wakefulness, Tornado inadvertently ramming his horn into a wooden post.

  Soothing everyone as best she could, Caylee dropped her shield and took a deep breath. A moment later she walked over and fully pushed open the door.

  A pleasant woman in her mid-50's stood on the other side, smiling a welcome. Dressed in a blue robe with a flat metal necklace, she knew this must be the “priestess” mentioned by the villagers last night.

  “Good morning.” The woman spread her hands in welcome. “I am Alya, the priestess here.”

  “I am Caylee.”

  “I know.” Still smiling warmly, Ayla’s pale eyes focused on Caylee’s face. “I’m sorry, my dear. I can see you did not rest well. If I’d been here last evening, you would not have been given a barn to sleep in.”

  Clearly, Ayla was far more sophisticated than the villagers she’d already met. Were there different castes all jumbled together here in the small village? And for that matter, where could the priestess have possibly been last night that rendered her inaccessible to visitors?

  “Oh, that’s all right,” Caylee replied, deciding to take things as they were for the moment. “But the tigers weren’t here when I woke up. I hope they aren’t getting into mischief.”

  “Oh, of course not.” Ayla respectfully inclined her head. “We are honored that the princess would deign to visit our tiny village. Thank you so much for bringing her.”

  At this point Tornado stuck his head out past Caylee through the half-open barn door, sniffing at Ayla. The older woman, her blondish hair now mostly grey, respectfully stroked his nose. Satisfied that their visitor harbored no ill-will, the unicorn then withdrew once more inside.