Rise (War Witch Book 1)

by Cain S. Latrani

"Well, now that we’ve gotten the awkward morning after part out of the way," he chuckled.

  Ramora grinned as she snuggled against him. She knew, if the situation was reversed, she would've given Chara Hells, as well. In a strange way, it was comforting. Their relationship had been strained ever since Imicot's keep, and while part of her still ached, she was glad the other woman felt like it was okay to give her a hard time. It meant they were both moving on.

  As Leto kissed her tenderly, she was glad for it. It was time, maybe, to move on from a lot of things. Sliding on top of him, she felt the world become a bit brighter.

  Chara and Esteban strolled up the street towards the castle, the big Werecat munching on some powdered doughnuts from a bakery he had insisted they stop at before heading on. Chara watched, a bit annoyed he refused to share.

  "You could at least let me have one," she grumbled.

  "Nope," he told her. "You made me break in on our friends while they were having quality naked together time. You don't get treats."

  Surly, she muttered, "I already told you I only did it because I was worried about them."

  "Uh huh," he replied, digging in the bag for another. "I recall you saying something about me being unable to admit when I was wrong. Now I return the comment."

  "You can be a real pain in the ass, you know that?" she growled.

  "Yes, I do," he grinned, licking his fingers before rummaging for another doughnut. "I had an excellent teacher."

  "I'm going to have a word with her about that, too," Chara said, growing more sullen.

  Esteban gave her a snide look. "If by her, you mean your reflection, then yes."

  Choosing to ignore that, she watched him for a moment before saying, "You're going to get sugar all in your fur, you know."

  "Don't care," he breezed, helping himself to another.

  "Not to mention fat," she added.

  "Werefolk metabolism," he replied blithely.

  "Gimme a damn doughnut," she snapped.

  "Not a chance," he chuckled.

  Sulking, Chara stomped along for a bit, feeling unduly punished for such a simple mistake. How was she to know those two hadn't argued? How was she supposed to guess Leto had found a way to diffuse Ramora's anger? It wasn't like she was psychic.

  Still, she thought, this is good. Ramora's moving on. A slight twinge slid through her as she accepted that, though she had no idea why. It wasn't as if she hadn't already done the same with Esteban. Why should she feel jealous of her friend finding the same kind of happiness?

  It bothered her, more than a little, that she did. Mostly because it didn't make sense. She should be happy for her, and was, yet there was this tiny part of her heart that was hurt by it. She knew it was something she should let go of, and forget about, but she couldn't.

  From the moment Imicot had introduced her to the real manner in which Masters should be played, Chara felt as if her mind was opening wide. She saw things in ways she never had before, had steadily found that anything she focused on came easily, and the manner in which everything moved made a rational kind of sense if you just studied it for a bit.

  Ramora, Esteban, and even Leto had commented more than once on how quick-witted she was, the agility of her mind, her cleverness and insight. She hadn't really been certain if she agreed or not. She didn't feel smart. She couldn't really explain it at all. Everything just made more sense the longer she looked at it.

  Which made the pang she felt even more curious. No matter how much she examined it, it made no sense. There was no rational reason for it. There was no pattern to it. It simply did not fit in with everything else around it. An anomaly she couldn't make heads or tails of, it irritated her with its stubborn refusal to explain itself.

  Rakiss walked behind her, desperately trying to keep her from thinking about it too much. The young woman was becoming ever more difficult to manage. Her nimble way of thinking, like nothing he'd ever seen before, and her ability to absorb everything like a sponge, had forced him to hover over her day and night to keep her from unwinding everything he'd done to her aura and thoughts.

  He honestly feared her figuring him out at this point, and every day, half-expected her to turn that narrow, assessing gaze on him, seeing past his invisibility. Her potential was beyond even what his Mistress had expected.

  Shaking her head, Chara set aside her curiosity over her own emotions. Odds were, it was just some leftover from when she'd hoped she and Ramora would be together, and nothing more. A vestige of the desire she'd once had for the Blessed. It made sense, really, if she thought of it that way. Mostly.

  Turning her attention back to her lover, she gave him an irritated glare as he dug around in the empty bag, finding no doughnuts left, and grumped about it a little. A dozen had been more than enough, after all, there was no need for him to make a pig of himself.

  Even so, a detached part of her kept picking at the curiosity that was her sorrow to see Ramora in the arms of another. As she chastised Esteban for eating so much, she analyzed, steadily pulling apart the oddity she couldn't explain. It was a puzzle, and if there was one thing Chara had discovered since leaving home, it was that every puzzle could be solved. It just took time.

  Rakiss gave a weary groan. While she wasn't consciously mulling the matter, he could see it. Deep in her aura, she was steadily, slowly, and methodically unwinding his work. Eventually, she would succeed, no matter what he did, or how many times he rewove her emotions. He just hoped he had enough time to finish what he'd started.

  "You could've at least saved a few for the others," Chara said.

  Esteban shrugged as he balled up the bag and tossed it away. "If they wanted some, they would've been there, seeing the things I saw."

  "Some of them probably would've enjoyed it," she muttered.

  "They are a good deal more epicurean than I expected of Blessed," he agreed. "I suppose I always envisioned them as a more refined crowd."

  Chara shrugged as they passed through the main gates of the castle and headed across the courtyard. "I guess we've taken Ramora as the standard. Though, now that I think about it, she's kind of flirty herself."

  "Yes, but in a discreet manner," he mused. "Some of them, say, Bit, or Izra, are ribald by comparison."

  "Are you trying to use big words to annoy me?" she asked.

  "A little, yes," he smirked.

  "Stop it," she chided. "I'm just a simple country girl, you know."

  Esteban tossed her a prurient look. "I've taken note of your own more earthy tastes, yes."

  Giving him a caustic glare, she huffed, "That wasn't what I meant, and you know it."

  "Now, now, beloved," he quipped. "I spent all my life shut away in a tower. I've no idea how you meant your comment."

  "I think you've had too much sugar," she muttered. "You're being a dick."

  "Usually you like that about me," he smirked.

  Snickering, she gave him a shove as they passed into the main hall of the castle, waving to the guards on duty, and headed for the corridor that led to the training rooms. As soon as everyone had arrived, Chara had in mind to tell them Ramora and Leto would be a little late, and they could make of that what they wanted.

  Of course, she already knew what they would make of it. At some point in the day, she was hopeful they may even get something done, but if there was anything she'd learned about the Blessed during her tenure as their tactical advisor, it was that in general, they were like a room full of five-year-olds. She figured it would take a while for the joking to stop.

  "Lady Chara?"

  Pausing, she turned to look, seeing four of the castle guards behind her. Esteban hesitated as well, giving them all a smile and a nod.

  "Sergeant Wollis, wasn't it?" she asked, getting a nod from him. "What can we do for you?"

  "I'm very sorry, miss," he replied, as he and the others pulled their weapons. "But we have to eliminate you now."

  Bit sauntered ahead of the other Blessed, chewing on the fritter he'd snagged as
they'd headed from the cafe they'd met at for breakfast. Behind him, the other five chatted amicably, mostly about nothing. It annoyed him a little, as the day they were to depart, putting all their practice to good use, was drawing near very quickly.

  "Oy, ya sorry lot," he called over his shoulder. "Think ya all could get a tad more focused. Ain't a summer camp we be'a goin' to, ya know?"

  "Says the man with an apple fritter in his hand," Rick replied.

  Bit scowled at him. "Be you most'a all that I be sad about, laddie. Gone soft on me, ya have."

  "Since when are you the work first type?" Flick asked with a guffaw. "Seems like you're the one who slacks off the most."

  "He isn't slacking," Izra giggled. "He's saving his energy."

  "So he claims," Tanna grinned.

  Bit gave them all a dour look. "It's possible I'm just startin' to really take this whole escapade seriously, ya know?"

  "About time," Sabra said.

  "Hey, now, greenie," he snapped. "I have ya know, while you be'a spitting round, I be the one who can knock down a wall with my wee fist. So don't go and get thinkin' you're all high and mighty."

  "Seriously, Bit," Rick said, waving the others to settle. "What's gotten into you this morning?"

  He shrugged. "Can't rightly say. Just woke up this mornin' and realized for the first time what it is we be'a plannin'. Sank into me noggin that not all of us will be comin' back from this, you know?"

  The group fell silent as they took in his words. Glancing to each other, they admitted quietly they'd all known this from the start. Tackling a compound controlled by Demon Seed, commanded by one of the single most successful Dark Blessed the world had ever known, there would be casualties.

  Not all of them were going to walk away. Most of them likely wouldn't. It was a sobering thought.

  "It does us little good to be thinking on that," Rick finally said. "We knew what we signed up for when we accepted the mark of the Divine."

  "To die in battle is to die in glory," Sabra agreed. "May we all be so fortunate as to end our lives surrounded by the slaughtered corpses of our enemies."

  "I'd rather die surrounded by horny naked women," Izra snorted. "But, whatever."

  Sabra threw her a disgusted look. "That's not an honorable death!"

  "No," the Elf grinned. "But it would sure as Hells be a fun one."

  "Now I can't stop picturing it," Flick moaned.

  "Which?" Tanna asked. "The glory, or the horny?"

  "Either!" the Dwarf cried in dismay.

  "I should've known this would happen," Rick sighed.

  Bit grinned a bit. "I suppose it really don't be matterin', do it? Long as we live like we mean it, that's the thing, wouldn't ya say, laddie?"

  Rick nodded, offering his old friend a slight smile. "Live well, die mattering. I'm sure that somewhere, that's the creed of the Blessed, yes."

  Izra hopped on Tanna's back, getting a slight oof from the Troll. "You guys are getting way too serious for my taste. Save the grim for when the fighting starts. For now, let's have some fun, and remember, it's Ramora's birthday! We get to have a party!"

  "I'm filled with expectation at the idea of what you intend to give her as a gift," the Troll said, shrugging the Elf off.

  "I wanted to go with me," Izra snickered. "But, I figure she can do well with something a little more practical."

  Sabra gave a throaty chuckle. "Which does rule you out."

  "Hey!" the Deep Elf whined.

  "Children, play nice," Rick groaned.

  Flick slumped. "I don't know how a fellow is supposed to think clear with so many lascivious women about."

  "Seem to me, that a fella shouldn't be thinkin' clear at all, should that be the case," Bit smirked. "Do gotta say, though, the comely lasses have gone and brightened my mood right up. Ya have me thanks, darlins."

  "Yes, we did it all for you," Sabra muttered.

  "Can't hear ya, love," the Halfling grinned. "Too busy celebratin' the joy of bein' a man in this company of fools."

  The laughter of his companions stilled the worry that'd been nibbling at him for days. He couldn't say just when it was it hit him, only that it had, and had become a thing that ate at his heart. He didn't want any of these people to die. The simple thought of it was soul-crushing.

  Perhaps, he thought, this is why Blessed don't team up more. This very wrenching agony he now struggled with. The despair that came with the knowledge that, sooner rather than later, his friends were going to die.

  Pushing it away, he focused on happier thoughts. The sound of Flick groaning on about Izra's extroverted sensuality. The subtler way Sabra's forthright battle sense struggled with Tanna's almost poetic wisdom. His oldest and truest friend Rick, trying to corral cats as he kept the team on point.

  It was warm. It was joyous. It made him feel like part of a family. He'd missed that, his Halfling nature drawn to the comforting and easy going. Listening to them brought back memories of his hearth and kin. He missed them, and decided as the band rolled down the castle hallway, after this was over, he'd go see them again.

  "Morning , your lordship," he called as Untar rounded the corner, approaching them. "How you doin' today?"

  "Better than you," the King replied as the air filled with a soft, sibilant hum, giving off the reek of decaying flesh.

  Bit still looked surprised as his head hit the floor and rolled away, his body slumping a moment later.

  Having decided to take Chara's advice, Ramora and Leto had lingered for a while in bed, his gentle lovemaking filling her with happiness. The ache was less, she found, and his attentiveness stole all thoughts from her mind, as did his passion. By the time she finally pulled herself from the bed to wash up, she couldn't stop smiling.

  Her Rabbit warbled about having told her so, and she admitted it had been right. Accepting that sometimes, she should listen to the little spirit more often, she cleaned herself up as Leto joined her.

  Through sheer willpower alone, she managed not to fall back into his embrace right there. They still had responsibilities to attend to, and despite the misgivings she still had, a party to attend.

  Reluctantly, they headed out, Chara and Esteban a good hour and a half ahead of them. Taking their time, they strolled towards the castle, Ramora with her greatsword resting over her shoulder, Leto unable to stop grinning at her. It made her a little self-conscious, but where that normally brought out her introverted side, she just smiled back.

  Today was going to be a good day, she felt.

  They didn't know it, but Chara and Esteban were only a few minutes ahead of them. Between Chara stopping to get dressed for the day, and Esteban taking his time at the bakery, the two had only just entered the castle, roughly ten minutes behind the rest of the group, as Leto and Ramora headed up the hill towards the main gates.

  By the time they entered the courtyard, Chara and Esteban were being drawn on by Sergeant Wollis, and Bit was greeting the King.

  Glancing about, Leto noted the absence of Lieutenant Rills. The young officer was always there to greet them when they arrived, and had only yesterday finally gotten his coveted autographs for his card collection. Leto had smiled politely as he scrawled his name across the bottom of the five by seven heavy paper, decorated with a skillful painting of the Blessed.

  Rills had, naturally, been beside himself with joy. Because of it, Leto had been fully prepared for the Lieutenant to greet him that morning, more enthusiastic than ever. His absence gave the Blessed of Grannax pause.

  "You there," he called, waving to a soldier. "Where's Lieutenant Rills?"

  The solider jerked a thumb upward. "He's been reassigned to duty up on the wall."

  Ramora frowned. That couldn't be right. Untar had made it clear the young officer’s top priority was to help the team of Blessed prepare for their assault on Draco's stronghold. What had changed?

  "Do you know why?" Leto asked.

  "Beats me," the soldier shrugged. "Probably something to do with that guest
we're supposed to be getting today."

  Ramora exchanged a glance with Leto before he asked, "Would you happen to know who that is?"

  "Can't say," they were told. "Just know it's sudden, and we're all being pulled from our regular duties for it."

  "Odd," he murmured. "Maybe we should go find Untar. See what this is all about."

  Ramora nodded, following as Leto hurried for the castle entrance.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  BLOOD SPLATTERED IZRA’S FACE.

  Bit's head had only just struck the floor as Untar swept forward, running Tanna through. The Deep Elf could only stare at the black energy that erupted from her lover’s back, the blood sizzling on it, as the Troll gasped.

  "I cloaked my aura," Untar told her as she died. "Didn't see that coming, did you?"

  "Sabra!" Rick roared.

  The Ogre was already moving, sliding around the King's side, her Divine gift activating as she sought a clean shot. Flick scrambled back, trying to clear her path as he brought his own Gift to bear, granting her the luck of Rialda. Izra simply stared, unable to move, everything distant as Untar jerked his corrupted weapon free, letting Tanna fall.

  The Netherspear. The Dark Gift of Derril, Demon Goddess of terror and secrets. The eater of souls. A blasphemy of the Divine Gifts of Grannax and Isel both. It wasn't possible for Untar to wield that.

  The King spun quickly, laying the Ogre wide open as her venom flew, missing him by so little he could feel it. Flick had time to be horrified before the Netherspear was buried in his throat, leaving the Dwarf gagging for air as Sabra toppled, her insides spilling on the floor.

  "Gods help us," Rick gasped, staggering back as Untar turned towards him.

  "They cannot save you, for they are false Gods," the King intoned. "Their time is coming to an end, and for your heresy, you will now die."

  "Izra," Rick shouted, grabbing the Elf by the arm. "Wake up, dammit!"

  Wide-eyed, Tanna's blood running down her face, the Deep Elf was frozen. Desperate, Rick shook her as Untar closed on him, but got no reaction, her garnet gaze fixed only on the Troll's motionless form.