Rise (War Witch Book 1)

by Cain S. Latrani

  "Forgive me, Izra," the Blessed of Terakus whispered. "I must warn the others."

  Invoking his Divine Gift, Rick stepped free of his body as Untar lunged, piercing his head. Horrified, he watched himself die. Even worse, he saw the truth about Untar. Flickering away, he sought someone, anyone, he could warn.

  Izra felt the warm wash of his blood strike her.

  They were dead.

  All of them were dead.

  Tanna was dead.

  Untar watched Rick's body tumble to the floor before looking at the paralyzed Elf. This had been even easier than he'd expected. Hefting his Demonic weapon, formed of pure Corruption, he drew back to finish Izra.

  His blow was halted as silver fire erupted around her hands, her Divine Gift roaring to life. Gone was the expression of panic, replaced with sheer, righteous rage. Energy, both Demonic and Divine, showered off like sparks as she held back his blow, her eyes ablaze with vehemence.

  "Wither and die," she snarled, shoving his vile weapon away as she swung around, her other hand sending him staggering against the wall.

  Untar sagged a moment, then looked up with a malicious grin. "Ah, there's some fight in this one after all. Good."

  "Fight?" she growled. "I am an Adept of the Way of Falling Leaves, trained by Master Kirinirit himself, Blessed of Hepheron, lover to Tanna Rethrick, and you have foolishly pissed me off! This isn't a fight, little human! It's your execution!"

  "Come then," he said, swinging his weapon to the ready. "Show me what you have, girl."

  Hurling herself at him, Izra delivered a series of powerful and fast blows, the silver fire engulfing her hands making her already devastating martial capabilities even deadlier. To her surprise, Untar dodged to the side, leaving her to pepper the walls with her assault.

  Seeing her off-guard, he swung up at her, his weapon cutting the air with a hiss, forcing her to twist away as she tried to calm her mind and fall into the battle clarity her Master had taught her. Untar pressed his advantage, jabbing forward with the Demonic weapon, only to have her catch it again, the Divine fire in her hand allowing her to hold it back.

  The Way of Falling Leaves, an Elven unarmed combat style as old as the world itself, had been taught to her since she was a child, her Master, Anar Kirinirit insisting she know how to defend herself, for she was a low-born orphan. In the realms of the Deep, it was almost a fate worse than death.

  "I will not fall to the likes of you," she said, mastering her rage, channeling it, and finding the battle clarity. "Traitor to your own people, worshiper of a vile God, you will not be my undoing."

  "Brave words," Untar grunted as he tried to thrust the Netherspear through her hand, to no avail. "Let us see."

  Pushing him back, she fell into a fighting stance, ready for him. In her eyes, he saw certainty, and hesitated as he circled. She followed him with her gaze, her body perfectly still. He sneered and came at her.

  Izra moved with a minimum of effort, bowing her body low as her feet spread, allowing his Demonic weapon to pass over her before twisting herself, driving both fists into his gut, throwing him back. Gasping for air, he was wide open as she braced on a single heel and spun, kicking him in the face, silver fire blazing to life a moment before contact.

  Hepheron had seen fit to Bless her with Divine Fire that engulfed any weapon she used. For Izra Tallamora, that was her entire body.

  Staggered, Untar tried to retreat as the whirling dervish of fire and fists came at him, each blow precise and powerful, forcing him to fall back again and again. There was no emotion in her eyes, nothing but calm conviction that he would die for what he'd done.

  Finding himself outmatched by the Elf on speed and capability, Untar swung his weapon blindly, forcing her to jump back, giving himself an ounce of room. It was all he would need.

  Runic words flowed from his lips, sending a wave of shock and dismay through Izra. It wasn't possible. He was a spellcaster now?

  "My Mistress saw fit to awaken my Avatar," he told her as a dozen swords were conjured into being around him, hovering as they awaited his command. "You may surpass me in martial skill, but that is useless if you can't get close enough to hit me."

  Izra grimaced as he waved the blades forward. Bracing, she kicked off, tucking herself as she rolled between the swords that flew at her, eye fixed on him as he came to understand how much he'd underestimated the Deep Elf. Rolling her body in the air, she landed on one foot, the other lashing out, catching him in the chest and hurling him back.

  "Your Mistress is as great a fool as you, then," she snarled. "I am a ketherin, a master of combat against mages. Your spells will not save you."

  Hitting the floor, Untar waved a hand, pulling the mystical blades back to him. Izra flowed around them, arching her back to avoid them all in a single, graceful move, lashing out with both hands to shatter two of them as they passed.

  "You cannot beat me," he roared, pushing himself up, bringing the magic weapons in around him as he charged her.

  Izra waited, breathing slow and steady, as he came at her. When she moved, it was with purpose, swinging low and to his left, shattering two more of his swords, and gaining his back, where she switched her balance and shoved upward, flipping backwards to bring the heel of her foot down on his head.

  Forced to his knees, Untar lashed out blindly, making her dodge him. She knew well the dangers of letting the Netherspear even so much as get a scratch in. Despite her calm, she was wary, gauging each move carefully, to avoid his corrupting weapon.

  Sensing a chance, Untar flung his mystic blades at her, forcing her to spiral through them, granting him a single, brief opening. Shoving up off his knees, he drove at her, only to find his weapon shoved high and over her shoulder, tearing at the wall in vain.

  Izra double-fisted his stomach, stealing his ability to breathe. She saw, from the corner of her eye, his Demon spear flicker and suppressed a smile. Hepheron's fire could do more than burn. It could sear away evil, and with a few more well-placed blows, his conduit to the Divine would be blocked, canceling out his Gift.

  As he sagged, gasping for air, she delivered a kick that sent him sprawling. Slowly, he gathered himself as she stalked him, looking for her best opening. She didn't wish to kill the ruler of Lansing, but she knew she was going to.

  For Bit.

  For Flick.

  For Sabra.

  For Rick.

  For her beloved Tanna.

  "You die here," she snarled.

  Untar moved with impossible speed, driving his fist deep into her stomach, shocking her. Even as she hit the floor, she realized she should've pressed her advantage. He'd cast a speed spell on himself while he'd been down, and she'd mistaken his muttering for trying to catch his breath. She cursed herself for not having cleared her mind properly. Her anger, her sorrow, had clouded her judgment.

  Rolling, she avoided his next blow, the Netherspear tearing the floor. He drug it after her as she found she couldn't stay ahead of it, and felt Demonic energy rip at her body and soul as he pulled the edge of the weapon down her back.

  "Now," he gasped out. "For the real fun."

  Izra felt her fire flickering, the corruption seeping into her body attempting to block her Divine Gift. She didn't have much time. Pushing herself up, she moved to kick at him, and felt searing pain as one of his mystical swords sliced through her leg, pinning her to the floor.

  "Easy now," Untar grinned. "This is going to hurt, just a little."

  Izra screamed.

  Esteban froze as Wollis and his men drew their weapons, the smile on his face slowly fading. Struggling to grasp what was happening, he could only watch as they advanced, their eyes bright with malicious intent. Distantly, he became aware they meant to kill both Chara and he.

  Wollis was engulfed in fire, his body turning to ash. Blinking, the big Cat turned to see his beloved, mystic weapons in hand. She was shocked, of that there was no doubt, but rather than hesitant, as he did, she acted, reducing all of their atta
ckers to ash in a moment.

  "What in all the Hells is going on?" she blurted.

  Shaking off the daze, Esteban glanced about. "I don't know. Perhaps we should find Lieutenant Rills. Surely, he will know."

  "Yeah, okay," Chara nodded, trying to still the shaking in her hands as she slid her weapons away.

  Trailing Esteban as he headed down the corridor at a trot, Chara couldn't stop trembling. She hadn't even hesitated. No more than she'd thought. She'd just killed four men, and she hadn't even considered it. Certainly, they had been threatening, their expressions letting her know they meant to murder she and Esteban both, but still.

  Is this what I'm becoming, she asked herself. Am I okay with that?

  "Hold there," a soldier called.

  Esteban jerked towards him, reaching for the poleaxe he wasn't carrying. Cursing softly, he brought out his claws as he called back, "What do you wish of us?"

  "They're here," the soldier yelled.

  "Dammit," the big Cat growled, grabbing Chara up and running as more guards came, joining the first and pursuing them.

  There was no time to head for the training chamber, where his weapon was stored. At least, not until he managed to shake the soldiers who were after them. His mind reeling, he turned, not plotting a course, just running, trying to lose them in the maze like interior of the castle.

  "Stop," Chara said suddenly. "Put me down."

  "Beloved," he replied.

  "Just do it," she ordered.

  Skidding to a stop, he did as she asked, setting her back on the floor. Pulling her weapons, she leveled them on the hall, waiting for the guards to come into view.

  She didn't want to kill anyone. She didn't want to do this. She wanted to meet up with the other Blessed. However, Esteban was unarmed, they weren't here, and like Hells was she going to play the damsel.

  She shot the first soldier to round the bend, reducing him to ash as he screamed. Her next two hit the wall, letting the other pursuers know she was holding her ground. Cautiously, one peeked around, spotting her. She took his head without flinching.

  "Listen up, boys," she called. "I want some answers! What the Hells are you playing at?"

  "We have orders," a soldier called back. "From the King himself. You both have been found guilty of acts of sedition against the crown, and are to be put to death on sight."

  Chara scowled. "That's absurd!"

  "The King ordered it himself," the soldier replied.

  Her mind spinning a mile a minute, she asked, "What of the Blessed?"

  "If they aren't dead already, they soon will be," came the answer. "Make it easy on yourself. Give up, and we'll make it as painless as possible. You can't escape, or win."

  "Like Hells," she muttered, waving Esteban to run.

  Dropping a few well-placed shots to cover them, she fled at his heels, trying to sort it out. Untar would never order something like this. Just yesterday, he'd been planning to come to Ramora's birthday party. What had happened overnight to change things this much?

  "Unless Untar isn't Untar," she gasped, coming to a stop. "That's got to be it."

  "Beloved, we shouldn't tarry," Esteban urged.

  Waving him to be quiet, she examined the idea carefully, picking it apart, looking for flaws, and finding none. It was the only logical conclusion. Untar would never betray his friends, therefore, Untar wasn't who he claimed to be.

  "He's not Untar," Chara said slowly. "The King, he's been replaced somehow."

  "Which we will have a very difficult time proving if we're dead," the big Cat argued. "Run now, think later."

  "Wait," Chara snapped. "We need to reach his personal quarters. Whatever evidence we need, that's the most likely place to find it."

  Esteban fretted about for a moment. "I don't even know where that is."

  "I do," she said. "Sixteenth floor, west side."

  "How can you know that?" Esteban asked.

  Chara shrugged. "There's a tour of the castle. I was talking to the guide over lunch the other day. He said it was the highlight of the tour."

  "He?" Esteban fumbled. "Who is he? What were you doing eating lunch with him? Where was I?"

  "Seriously," Chara barked. "You want to argue about that right now?"

  Esteban sulked a bit. "No, not right now. Later."

  "Whatever," Chara groaned, waving him to follow her as she darted down the hall.

  Finding a staircase, she pounded up it, weapons sweeping ahead of her, ready to fire on anyone who stood in her path. At the moment, she had to consider every soldier in the castle an enemy, and while she hated to hurt any of them, wasn't about to give in and let herself be killed.

  Winding their way up, the two found resistance to be much lighter than they'd expected. Only the occasional soldier bared their path, and usually, fled the menace of Chara's mystic weapons. It was another puzzle that picked at her brain, eventually drawing her to a stop down the hall from their goal.

  "What?" Esteban asked. "What is it?"

  "Where are all the guards?" she asked.

  "Chasing us, I think," he replied.

  She waved a gun in the air. "No, stop, think. Normally, how many soldiers do you see on duty in this place."

  "I'm not sure," he answered, growing exasperated. "I've never counted. Come on, we need to hurry."

  "Esteban," she snapped, freezing him in his tracks. "This is important. Typically, there are dozens stationed all over every floor. We've only seen a handful. Where are all the guards?"

  Agitated, he stilled himself, trying to be calm. "Somewhere else."

  "If this was a game of Masters," Chara said slowly. "Having pieces somewhere they shouldn't be, somewhere you wouldn't normally put them for a sensible gambit, means that you're playing a different tactic."

  "This isn't a game of Masters, beloved," he reminded her.

  "Everything is a game of Masters," she told him pointedly. "The soldiers normally stationed around the castle are somewhere else. Where? Some place they can be more effective than here. Which means, they know they have this area secured and in their control, so they must be..."

  Esteban frowned at the look of shock and horror that crossed her face. "What? Where?"

  "We need to hurry and find out what's going on with Untar." She rushed ahead. "If I'm right, this is bad. Really bad."

  "What is it?" he cried, running after her.

  "The city," she told him. "They're in the city!"

  Esteban shook his head, not understanding what she was saying. So what if they were? There were hundreds of soldiers stationed all over the city. What difference did the ones from the castle make? It wasn't as if they didn't already know he and Chara were coming there.

  In a blink, he understood. They, and the rest of the Blessed, were already coming to the castle. Why would there be fewer guards than normal? It really didn't make sense. Unlike her, he couldn't grasp the why, though.

  "Chara," he started as they rounded the turn that led to Untar's chambers.

  They both froze at the sight of Leena standing in the hallway, two long, curved, wicked-looking daggers in her hands.

  "Aw, shit," Chara sighed.

  Swinging her weapons up, she made to fire, only to have the daggers flash, knocking her shots wide, tearing holes in the walls. As she sought to reorient, Leena was already on the move, peppering Esteban with fast blows. Chara tried to swing around as the King's aide ducked from her line of sight and disappeared behind the Werejaguar, who found he couldn't move.

  "Lower those," Leena ordered, watching Chara carefully from behind her glasses. "Or my next strike stops his heart."

  "I'm not about to just stand here and be executed for crimes we didn't commit," Chara snapped.

  Frowning, the other woman repeated herself. "Stand down, Chara. I will kill him if you don't."

  Looking for a clean shot, Chara snarled back, "You'll kill us if we do! Forget it! Touch him again, and I swear, you'll die burning!"

  "Do as I say, child," Leena snap
ped.

  "Not a chance." Chara wasn't sure defying her was the right option, but she had no intention of simply laying down to die. Not for anyone. Not ever.

  Leena stared at her for a long moment, then struck Esteban again.

  Ramora and Leto ran into the entry hall of the castle, where they paused, finding no one. Usually, there were at least half a dozen soldiers on duty here. For it to be completely empty made the feeling of something being off grow. They hesitated a moment, casting about anxiously.

  "Okay, so, important visitor, and you pull the entire contingent of guards from the front door of your house," Leto said slowly. "Somehow, I don't think so."

  Ramora shook her head. As she did, the two heard a series of heavy whupping sounds coming from one of the corridors that branched off the main room. Glancing at each other, they raced for it. To Ramora's ear, it sounded like spellwork, though she didn't know of anyone else normally in the castle, besides herself, capable of channeling mystic energy. They came to a stop a moment later as they found four piles of ash in the floor.

  "What the Hells?" Leto muttered.

  Suddenly fearful for Chara, Ramora signed that they needed to get to the training chamber, where the rest of her gear was stored. Nodding, Leto followed as she ran down the hall, away from where Chara and Esteban were being pursued.

  A scream reached them a moment later, freezing them both. It was distant, echoing through the corridors, making it impossible to be sure where it had come from. Trepidation growing, Ramora moved forward, wary now as Leto shadowed her back, watchful gaze darting to each passage and door they crossed.

  Winding their way through the corridors, both felt the growing sense of fear and uncertainty. Something bad was happening, though neither could guess what. They needed to join up with the rest of the Blessed, find Chara and Esteban, then locate the King.

  They agreed to this plan without a word exchanging between them, both accustomed to prioritizing and executing battle plans as the need arose. In greater numbers, they would be stronger. Their two friends would need their protection. Untar was the only one who could explain what was happening.

  The feeling of anxiety that was slowly knotting Ramora's gut was something she ignored the best she could. Chara was capable, as was Esteban. He wouldn't let anything bad happen to her. No matter how much she told herself that, she still found herself fretting after her young friend. If she was harmed, in any way, Ramora didn't know what she would do. Chiding herself for being foolish, and selfish, she wished she hadn't lingered in bed after all.