Till Death And Beyond (Witch World)

by Lyn C. Johanson

  In this, you are wrong. Raven heard a voice. The same voice from his dream. Of course, give her a decade and I think she’ll make it. But are you prepared to wait that long?

  “Let me guess, you can help me?” He didn’t like the voice when it was in his dream, and he sure as hell didn’t like it now, but he was desperate… Worse, he sensed the truth in the creature’s words.

  I’m the only one who can help you.

  “I’m listening.”

  Don’t even think about it, Dazy; another being swirled like a tornado into his room. It suddenly got too crowded.

  “Who are you?” he asked, addressing both of them. The second one was a female—a goddess? While the first one—he had a nasty suspicion it could be Dazlog.

  The creatures remained cloaked, but it was not hard to sense dark power when you had it right there in front of you. The air around them seemed to crack with energy. This didn’t bode well for any of them, Raven decided, and scooped Amira in his arms.

  You want her well, or you want us to get to know each other better? the voice of an otherworldly female spread like a chill over his skin. Raven gritted his teeth, but kept his silence. Just as I thought.

  Make no deals with that—

  Dazlog’s voice was interrupted by a cold wave that passed through Raven. But he was too preoccupied to shiver. Like a dozen lightning bolts, energy flashed in the middle of the room. Flared out. It spread outwards until the walls themselves seemed to respond to the surge. Everything shook. The sword he kept above the mantel fell. So did the mirror.

  The frame crashed loudly to the floor. Shards of glass flew everywhere. Then the dust settled, the room became so silent—Raven was convinced one, if not both of the beings, had left.

  Are we ready to bargain? the female asked, and no male voice followed hers this time. It became apparent that Raven’s options had just got sliced in half.

  “What is it that you want?”

  I want you to leave for Leonon, first thing in the morning. There are trials scheduled and I need you to save one particular person.

  It seemed simple. Too simple. A nagging thread of doubt started to squirm its way into Raven’s mind. “And Amira will wake up with no harm done to her mind, or body?”

  She will wake up the moment you leave, with no harm done to her, I give you my word, she said.

  “It’s not enough.” Raven wasn’t stupid. Since he didn’t know who exactly he was talking to, he had no idea if the word of honor in itself was binding to the creature. For some it was, but not for all. “I need a binding oath on your part.”

  Clever, she laughed. But there is no need for such distrust.

  “A precaution,” Raven assured her, and after she swore the oath, he gave his own word.

  He wasn’t thrilled about leaving Amira for four days—three if he pushed it, but a bargain was a bargain.

  “I’ll be back, Angel,” he whispered, and kissed her lips. Be safe.

  Saying goodbye to a person who had become his every breath was the last thing on earth he wanted. But he couldn’t allow this to continue. What if she suffered? Dacian had, when he’d been stuck in his own prison.

  It was so strange to have his brother back, and in a way worse than not having him at all. They’d been inseparable. Now, his brother treated him like an enemy. Raven hated what Dacian had become, what they had become. But most of all, he hated himself for the ugly feeling that seemed to rear its head every time they crossed words. It was a vicious cycle.

  As he walked to the door, another thought came to him—for the first time in his life, he would be riding off without the same goal he had had for many years. For the first time, he didn’t have a life-long purpose. And it left a bittersweet taste in his mouth.

  He had dedicated everything to finding a salvation for Dacian, but he’d never thought about what would happen next. Now he knew that forgiveness wasn’t for everyone. He also knew that he had no idea what he wanted to do in his life. Except for one thing…

  Raven took one last look at Amira, so peacefully sitting on his bed, and closed the door. He knew he wanted her in it.

  Fool, he heard Dazlog’s voice once again. Why did you bargain with that witch?

  “I don’t remember hearing any offer from you,” Raven’s voice echoed as he marched down the corridor. He was afraid he wouldn’t be able to leave if he stopped now.

  Did you know it was a trap? You reach Leonon, she’ll detain you. Amira ends up at her mercy because you were away. And I can assure you, Nially has no mercy.

  The words struck him cold and forced him to stop dead in his tracks. “What? Are you saying she won’t hold to her side of the deal?”

  Oh, she will. She needs her in her full strength for what’s to come.

  “What is to come?” Raven demanded, tired of all this cryptic nonsense.

  That, you’ll need to find out for yourself. Right now the question is—can you avert it?

  “Avert what?”

  I’m afraid you have nothing of value to me to bargain for answers with, much less for help.

  “Really?” Raven tilted his head, almost certain he knew where the demon stood. “Is that why you came here? Because I have nothing you want? You know what I think?” He wrapped his arms on his chest trying to remain calm. It was the only way to find a solution. He willed his heart to slow down and pushed his worry aside for the moment. “You would help me no matter what, especially now that this Nially’s got involved. I wager your plans don’t exactly mesh well together.”

  My, my, aren’t you the perceptive one, Dazlog laughed. But you are right. I’ll help you get back in time. For a price.

  “I’ll be helping you to thwart Nially’s plans. Isn’t that enough?”

  That got the demon laughing even harder. But it’s not exactly a price, since you have a stake in this.

  “And because you have a stake in this, you won’t ask anything else.”

  I like the way you are thinking, human. Bloody inconvenient, but I like it. The demon laughed one more time and disappeared.

  * * *

  Amira was lost. For days. Maybe minutes. She had no way of measuring time when time didn’t exist where she was. Only darkness.

  It felt like being locked in a dark room with no windows and no doors. The walls were moving, shifting all the time, closing in on her; and the floor kept slipping from under her feet, preventing her from gaining any semblance of balance. Dreadful screams pierced her ears, and if only it would cease for a second, Amira knew she would find the way out—but it kept growing and growing.

  She had already walked through some of her prior lives, each time gaining a new bit of knowledge, but there was still so much left, she was afraid she would never get out of this predicament.

  Suddenly she found herself transported back hundreds of years to a time when her powers were less than those of an ordinary witch. Her name—Shyra.

  Shyra was innocent, and despite having lived six times, she’d never lain with a man. Was afraid to. She’d once witnessed a witch being taken by some knave and the girl had screamed her throat out. Till he’d gagged her mouth.

  Shyra had been horrified. She’d wanted to help, but fear had kept her immobile, hidden in the corner of the barn. Curled into a small ball, she’d kept herself silent so not to alert anyone to her presence. She was ashamed to admit that all she’d done was pray.

  Shyra didn’t know why she was remembering it now, when she needed a spell that would work against an amulet-wearing Venlordian—be it only for a few moments. But she was scared, trembling like a leaf as the man’s hands worked their way through her skirts. She pushed and she slapped and she squirmed, all in vain. He was larger, stronger. He was shoving her skirt up, revealing her thighs and touching. Touching. Touching.

  Shyra shivered, her hands searching for any kind of weapon on the table she was laid upon. She grabbed something, hopefully sharp, and stabbed the Venlordian with all her might once. Twice. Three times. Shyra screamed and
stabbed, not even seeing what she held in her hand.

  The Venlordian stopped touching, but before Shyra could manage to escape, he fell on her, his bodyweight pinning her down. Her grip tightened on the knife. Her blouse suddenly got wet. And red.

  Shyra looked straight into the lifeless eyes in front of her and screamed.

  Amira remembered the horror of the first life she’d taken. Remembered the fear and panic, but no more. Now she felt strangely safe and protected by a presence who guarded even her dreams. Amira felt herself moving forward until she stumbled into another lifetime, another place.

  Loanne cuddled after making love, and sighed contently. Life was good. Finally.

  She was through with following orders—she’d tried that already and it had brought her only pain and death. Now she wanted to live. To love. And to be loved. Tyrell was the first man she’d let into her bed, and she couldn’t be happier. He loved her. He would protect her from the Order.

  Just then a knock sounded on the front door. He shifted beneath her, kissed her lips and whispered, “I’ll be back soon.”

  Tyrell opened the door and let two men in.

  Loanne gasped, grabbed a sheet to cover herself, trying to understand what was happening.

  “You can take the witch now,” the man who had sworn his love minutes ago told the Venlordians.

  Loanne knew she would not escape—she wasn’t strong enough. She knew death was already breathing down her neck, but the pain in her heart was present and so powerful she couldn’t contain her tears.

  Amira jumped through time again. Another few hundred years. And found herself in the middle of the town square with another man.

  She was careful this time. Didn’t trust as easily. Hadn’t slept with anyone yet, though the man in front of her had sworn many times he would lay down his life for her. He was bent on seducing her, and Hannah didn’t discourage his advances, though she was not sure if she would reward his efforts.

  “Tell me what you want, my sweet Hannah, and it’s yours,” he used to say, though she’d never asked anything of him. Now, when she spied a couple of Venlordians approaching, she whispered, “do not let any harm befall me.”

  Hannah’s magic, though stronger than that of her prior selves, was still too weak to fight the members of the Order. Men, yes; but not amulet-wearing monsters.

  “You are safe, my sweet,” he told her, but when the Venlordians demanded her in exchange for letting him go, her protector turned, whispered a pathetic sorry, and ran.

  Again the setting changed, and the woman Amira found herself to be lived by gaining power. Fiona was strong enough to rely on herself. But all the prior lives had left her jaded. She viewed men as cowards and traitors with only one purpose—to be used.

  She slept with many. But not for the pleasure of it. She drained them of energy and grew so powerful she was convinced no one would be able to stop her. Until the goddesses stripped her of her powers.

  Amira jumped again, finding Evet standing in front of a man whom she suspected knew the Prophecy she was supposed to fulfill. Thankfully she had already learned how to read minds.

  Evet concentrated and entered his mind, breaking down one barrier at a time. But she lost control and suddenly, the man gasped and fell, too weak to withstand her intrusion.

  Evet was forced to watch him scream and scream, his pain attracting passers-by. Until there was only silence, and she was standing near the body of the man she had just killed.

  Amira jumped again, and again she saw a man dying in front of her; only this time because she had told him to, after he called her an abomination.

  She stood near the body, not understanding what had happened. She’d never had such a power. Such a voice to affect others. It seemed it sufficed for her to scream the punishment, and a life was lost.

  What was she turning into? Her lack of control and knowledge took lives. Her inability to understand her own destiny made her suffer. She couldn’t accept such a defeat, but the truth was inevitable. It ripped her apart. Kept lacerating. And finally it was she who screamed. And screamed. And screamed as everything changed one more time.

  Amira opened her eyes. The world came to her slowly, each detail crawling out of the shadows at its own pace. Shade and light finally coloring her view.

  There were moments, maybe hours even, when she thought she would never escape the darkness. When no matter where she ran, it followed indefatigably. Without remorse. Her magic didn’t work in the darkness she had been locked up in, and every time she made the wrong turn she was forced to live through her own memories. Nightmares, mostly, which she had no desire to remember.

  But every time she felt powerless and scared, about to meet her execution, she sensed a calming presence. Her prior selves did not know the source, but Amira knew. Raven was there. Standing by her side protecting her, defending her. The dream of him so entangled in her brain, it seemed real for him to be with her even hundreds of years ago. Giving her strength and hope.

  Even now she could hear him whispering, his hands gently touching her. She dreamed of him kissing her. Her throat tightened, hands slightly shook as she trailed the path down her cheek, her fingertips brushing the softness of her lips.

  She shook her head, still unable to fathom dreams or distinguish them from reality, wishes from actual events. Suddenly, she realized she was laughing. Almost hysterically. As if she was truly crazed.

  Amira swallowed, quelling her mirthless laughter, her eyes desperately blinking until she registered a person in front of her. So familiar, and yet a stranger. His midnight gaze was full of distrust. Dacian, she remembered. Not Raven. His mere name causing her heart to leap and fall painfully, knowing he wasn’t here.

  “Where is he?” she asked as soon as she recovered her voice.

  “Some place far away, I hope.” Dacian’s eyes never left her, and she noticed uncertainty hidden behind layers of disgust. A lot of his hatred was directed toward his own brother, and Amira had a hard time believing what she felt.

  “After everything, you still care for him?” he asked her, interrupting her long, silent stare.

  “And you hate him,” she simply stated.

  “How could I not?” his anger rose with every word uttered. “He destroys everything he touches.”

  “Then why haven’t you tried to harm me? You know you could hurt him that way.” Amira rose to her full height and stood in front of him. Eye to eye.

  “I’ve looked into the eyes of the monster—I don’t want to become one,” he whispered, and in that moment, she noticed a scared child hidden deep in his eyes. He blinked, and quickly it disappeared. “I’ve seen glimpses of you, you know. When you came into my consciousness I got fragments from yours. Maybe that’s the reason I can’t seem to hate you.” I have no idea where half of the things in my head come from. The last sentence he said to himself, his voice frustrated and almost desperate, but she heard it nevertheless.

  “If you’ve seen me, then you’ve seen your brother.” Don’t be hard on him, she wanted to ask, but was afraid of what his reaction would be if she were to project her thoughts straight into his mind. He might be capable, like Raven; but Dacian wasn’t ready.

  “Ah, yes, let’s see … the pole. You, almost being raped. Should I continue?”

  Amira sighed. It was fruitless to argue with him. Not when everything was still too raw. Too new. About fifteen years of his life taken away. It could not be healed in one night. It was impossible to make him understand that to her, those fragments were irrelevant. She tried not to get distracted by the past.

  The whole walking down memory lane thing was also not the most exhilarating experience she’d ever had, but it was necessary in order to put the pieces together. Now she knew what to do. Amira had only to help in a ritual. She didn’t have details, but she suspected it to be a conjuring. The witches would tell her more. And after she played her part, she would be free. So many possibilities were suddenly available for her, she actually wanted to smil
e.

  “Unbelievable,” Dacian raised his hands as if giving up. “I am talking about what he did to you and you … smile?”

  Was she? Yes, yes she was, Amira thought, and her smile broadened. She supposed one had to go through everything to know how she felt. But from the look on Dacian’s face and the way he was shaking his head, he probably thought she’d lost her mind. Or hadn’t recovered it.

  “I can’t explain it to you,” she said, “I don’t think you would understand, but maybe one day.” One day, if he was lucky enough to find the meaning in his life. There was nothing else she could do for him. It was up to him now.

  “Let’s just leave it,” he suggested. “I have a feeling we are never going to agree on this subject.”

  “For your own sake, I hope it isn’t true,” Amira told him. She was ready to face the world. Ready for anything.

  Chapter 27

  After conversing with Martha, Amira knew where Raven had gone to, but when she mounted a horse and rode off, it was not Leonon she headed for. She went in the opposite direction, urging her horse as much as she dared to, stopping only when absolutely necessary.

  She encountered no difficulties, no Venlordians lurking behind trees. The journey was smooth and gave her time to mull over the memories she’d walked through. It let her discover how time had changed her from those girls she’d once been.

  Shyra had been so fearful and weak. Loanne so desperate for love. Hannah—wary, Fiona—vindictive. Unsure, scared, furious, disgusted by herself—she had been all of those things. Finally, Amira was the culmination of them all.

  Sometimes she was scared, sometimes vindictive. There were moments when she felt weak, and times when she was stronger than ever. Nothing held her back, no matter how much fear gripped her heart. Amira was determined, and she was a fighter. Most importantly, she was in love with a man she believed would never betray her. Not after everything they had gone through.