by Phil Stern
RIVALS
Book Three of the
Cross-Worlds Coven Series
Phil Stern
Rivals
Copyright © 2013 by Phil Stern
All Rights Reserved.
Second Edition
May 2015
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are entirely the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
www.philstern.com
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
EPILOGUE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
RIVALS
CHAPTER ONE
STRIDING DOWN A PLEASANT grass lane between cozy wooden buildings, dressed in her typical jeans, stylish black boots, and soft white shirt, Tiffany Smith thoughtfully munched on a butter croissant.
As usual in Haven it was a warm, sunny day, a few high clouds perfectly complimenting an otherwise clear blue sky. On this particular morning the village was oddly crowded, with almost the entire Coven having been recalled from the outer worlds. Upon reflection, Tiffany couldn’t remember ever seeing so many of her sisters in the home dimension at one time.
However, this clearly wasn’t a happy occasion. In fact, most of the sorceresses Tiffany passed were huddled together in small groups, speaking in low, hushed tones. Nodding pleasantly at everyone who looked in her direction, she noticed many almost guiltily draw back from their sisters, as if caught in some type of conspiratorial act. Deliberately projecting an upbeat, confident demeanor, Tiffany continued on her way.
The start time for the Conclave now drawing near, more than one Coven-mate hesitantly fell into step behind Tiffany’s more purposeful pace, vaguely trailing her to the large Gathering Hall off the village square. Others seemed to coolly wait for the regal brunette to pass before continuing on themselves. Finishing her croissant and magically incinerating the napkin within a closed fist, Tiffany pretended not to notice this latter group.
Still, she was disappointed. The Earth-based sorceress had hoped to mitigate any polarizing influence her own presence might cause by attending the Conclave solo, thus standing above the growing fractionalization within the Coven ranks. Yet her “neutral” approach was only drawing additional, unwanted attention, while unduly irritating several friends who’d suggested they go to the Conclave together. Firmly pushing aside her own annoyance, Tiffany turned a corner and approached the large, church-like Gathering Hall.
Indeed, all seven members of the Coven Council were positioned by the main entrance, almost grimly nodding at everyone as they passed through. Manifesting the split within the Coven leadership, Barbara and her three cohorts were off to one side of the door, while Eleanor and two firm allies stood their ground on the other. In effect, each sorceress passing between the now-rival factions had to acknowledge one group or the other, though many gave a tense smile in both directions. This, Tiffany noticed, usually earned a dour frown from both leadership camps.
Though entirely unintentional, the message was resoundingly clear. Every sorceress was expected to commit herself this morning to either Eleanor or Barbara. For without question, the competing policies of the longtime Coven Elders had now broken out into open discord, their conflicting views having clearly impeded Coven operations in the recent Zarth brushup. It was time to settle all that once and for all, proceeding forward with a clear, singular vision.
Which wasn’t to say that anyone had the faintest idea how the next few hours would actually transpire. In fact, today’s Conclave was nearly unprecedented. It had been just over a century since the last such leadership challenge, pre-dating the life span of any living Coven-mate. In essence the entire Coven was now in uncharted waters, collectively lurching towards an uncertain future.
Unfortunately, the three witches in front of Tiffany made a great show of stopping to greet Barbara and her cronies, forcing her to wait just outside the impromptu entranceway bottleneck. Taking the opportunity to catch the younger woman’s eye, the longtime Coven Leader inclined her head slightly.
“Tiffany,” Eleanor intoned. “Thank you for coming on such short notice.”
“Of course,” she replied, doing her best to sound pleasant. “I always appreciate the opportunity to hear directly from the Coven Council.”
Though clearly planning to ignore Tiffany, Barbara now couldn’t help looking over, her gaze noticeably hardening. “That’s very interesting, dear. Especially since I was under the impression you thought Eleanor the only Elder that mattered.”
“Barbara.” Gritting her teeth, Tiffany nevertheless managed a tight smile for the Deputy Coven Leader. “How nice to see you as well.”
“Ah, if it isn’t our young renegade!” purred an Elder standing close to Barbara. “Tiffany Smith, the girl who negotiates truces for the entire Coven all on her own!”
“Please, the slayer of mad wizards is above reproach!” another Council member acidly observed. “Not to mention acceptable standards of morality!”
“Excuse me?” Almost unconsciously, Tiffany took a half-step forward. “What do you mean by that, Helen?”
“Oh dear, do relax.” Smiling thinly, the older woman didn’t look away. “I’m sure your innovative domestic situation will survive a little time apart. Won’t it?”
“Tiffany, we’ll see you inside.” Speaking in her firm, Coven Leader voice, Eleanor peremptorily jerked her head at the open door. “Now.”
Suddenly Tiffany realized they were on the verge of a scene. She could almost feel a dozen Coven-mates now awkwardly standing behind her, shifting from one booted foot to the other. Great, now she was the one holding up the line. Not even trusting herself to speak, Tiffany pounded through the open door and plunged into the uncertain darkness beyond.
Somehow the Gathering Hall seemed considerably larger inside that it did from without, whether from expert design or magic she wasn’t quite sure. Sliding down the side wall, Tiffany took a moment to let her eyes adjust. It actually did closely resemble an Earth-type church, with a soaring roof and pew-like benches spread from one side to the other. Priceless works of art adorned the wall space between tall, rectangular windows, with tasteful sculptures tucked away in the corners and back wall. There was even a stunning mural on the ceiling, depicting a young, beautiful sorceress defiantly staring out over a mysterious landscape, her earth stone pulsing strongly.
Yet rather than a single pulpit, the front of the hall was dominated by a raised platform, upon which sat a single long table with seven chairs. Interesting, Tiffany thought. Even though the very calling of a Conclave represented a grave loss of unanimity within the Coven leadership, they still intended to maintain the outward trappings of cohesion and control. Idly, Tiffany wondered if this rather obvious dichotomy was lost on her sisters.
“Hey.” Appearing at her side, Marissa hesitantly touched Tiffany’s arm. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Of course.” Giving her friend a quick hug, Tiffany tried to keep her voice light. “But why does everyone act like they’re surprised I showed up?”
“Oh, I didn’t mean...” Trailing off, Marissa sighed. “This is all just pretty crazy, Tiff, that’s all.”
By now about a hundred witches were seated throughout the Gathering Hall in two’s and three’s, uncomfortably gl
ancing around. More women were entering through the single doorway, hesitantly circulating about before awkwardly sliding into seats.
“So, what’s it like being under arrest?” Tiffany pleasantly asked, making a point of smiling. “It’s not too onerous, I hope?”
“Oh, I’m fine.” Though rolling her eyes, Marissa’s jaw still took on a hard set. “But it is irritating to think of Haven as some kind of jail, rather than a home.”
Two weeks before, after Tiffany had gone missing-in-action and was presumed a prisoner in Zarth, Eleanor had ordered the direct contact points between Earth and its parallel dimension closed off. Marissa had thrown a fit, accusing the Coven Council of simply abandoning Tiffany and another missing girl to the enemy. Many of their age-mates, also gathered at their Tennessee safe house specifically for offensive operations against the Zarth coven, had agreed.
At this point Barbara wildly assailed Marissa in front of everyone else, calling her “selfish and indulgent.” Unbowed, Marissa promptly declared her intention to personally lead a rescue mission into Zarth, whether Barbara liked it or not. At this, the Deputy Coven Leader had shockingly ordered her arrest and removal back to Haven. This uncertain state-of-affairs was still in effect, Eleanor herself having declined to intervene.
“This will all get sorted out today,” Tiffany sympathized. “At least I hope it will.”
“Well, that all depends on how other things are sorted out first, doesn’t it?” Dropping her voice, Marissa leaned in close. “Do you think Barbara can actually unseat Eleanor?”
“I’m not sure.” Tiffany paused. “But I don’t think it’s gotten to that point.”
“Is that even what you want?” Marissa pressed. “After all, Eleanor was perfectly willing to simply trap you and Hazel in Zarth.”
Indeed, this was no small point. Tiffany herself had been having a very hard time accepting Eleanor’s apparent willingness to sacrifice the few for the sake of the many. Particularly when one of the few had been her.
Yet could there be other factors at work here? By all accounts, Barbara had been very insistent about closing off all access to Earth’s alternate dimension. Indeed, the confrontation with Marissa was part of her near-mania on the subject. Perhaps Eleanor was letting her deputy get her way momentarily, but had another plan for rescuing the missing sorceresses? It was possible.
Yet still utterly galling. Actually, Tiffany’s apparent abandonment in Zarth was a gnawing, festering sore. Such behavior was to be expected from an incompetent fool like Barbara. But Eleanor? For the sake of their fragile unity, Tiffany had yet to voice her displeasure to anyone else, much less confront the Coven Leader directly about recent events. Still, the whole thing rankled her deeply.
“Look.” Pausing, Tiffany tried to gather her own thoughts. “We still don’t know...”
“Excuse me!” Pointedly shoving past both younger women, an older witch entered the nearest pew and strode a dozen feet in before sitting.
“Wow.” Tiffany stared after the other sorceress. “That was a bit rude of Susan, wasn’t it?”
Marissa frowned. “I thought you two worked together on Earth.”
“We did. For over a year, actually.” Eyes narrowing, Tiffany smiled. “Susan was usually more interested in drinking cocktails and watching television than doing any actual work.”
“Oh, don’t worry about her, then. Come on.” Giving Tiffany a pointed push, Marissa guided her friend into the next pew up, the two brunettes walking to the exact center of the Hall before also taking their seats.
By now the Gathering Hall was filling up fast. Close to two hundred witches now packed the orderly lines of pews, from the greenest of eighteen year olds to a wizened ninety-two. At any one time green light sparkled from dozens of earth stones, creating a wondrous oscillating effect among the crowd. Indeed, the concentrated magical power was creating a nearly tangible aura above the gathered Coven, a hazy green cloud now partially obscuring the ceiling mural.
About twenty other girls randomly sat around them, leaning over to smile and say hello. Though appreciative of the company, Tiffany had the uncomfortable impression she was becoming the defacto center of a power block. Or worse yet, the presumed leader of some type of opposition movement. This was exactly the scenario she’d vowed to avoid, apparently without success.
And sure enough, when the seven Elders finally shut the doors and marched towards the front of the now crowded and hushed Gathering Hall, Eleanor’s steely gaze lingered on Tiffany a long, hard moment. Despite herself, Tiffany slid down on the hard pew-like seat, fervently hoping to avoid further notice.
“Hey, Tiff.” Leaning forward, Brooke tapped her on the shoulder. “What did Eleanor say about just leaving you in Zarth like that?”
“Nothing,” she whispered back, keeping her attention on the front of the Hall.
“Nothing?” Marissa repeated, raising an eyebrow. “How’s that possible?”
“We haven’t spoken since I got back.” Now Tiffany watched the Council ponderously take their seats, Eleanor and Barbara clearly uncomfortable being next to each other.
“What?” Now Amber leaned in. “She hasn’t talked to you?”
“Nope.”
Clearly, Brooke was irate. “But that’s ridiculous! How can...”
“Ladies!” Boomed out Eleanor’s voice, her hands flat on the table. “Thank you all for coming today.”
Both Amber and Brooke instantly leaned back, their attention fully on the Coven Leader. After an initial round of shifting about throughout the Hall, along with the attendant outbreak of creaking wooden pews, the assembled Coven was almost ghostly quiet.
“As you all know,” Eleanor continued in her forceful, calm voice, “our truce with the Zarth coven remains in effect. Both sides have pulled back their reinforcements from Earth, where we first came into conflict. At least for the time being we’re maintaining normal levels there.”
“Which is largely beside the point!” Crassly interrupting the Coven Leader, Barbara now leaned forward. “We cannot afford to sit back, not even for a menlar, and let our enemies gain in strength! Eleanor should never have accepted any type of truce with those ruby harlots! Especially one negotiated, without any authority whatsoever, by a junior member of our Coven! The Zarth threat remains very real, and must be dealt with swiftly and decisively!”
The Deputy Coven Leader’s impromptu declaration received a smattering of applause, generally from the older members of the audience. Off to one side and a row back, Susan muttered “Here, here!” to no one in particular.
Clearly unsettled, most of the assembled women uneasily glanced about. Never before could Tiffany remember anyone trying to wrest attention away from Eleanor. She was always the dominant figure in any setting, from strictly official to idly casual. In a sense, Barbara’s actions bordered almost on the perverse. Tiffany found her teeth grinding together, the unyielding wooden pew now very hard against her back.
“My colleague is being an alarmist.” Still facing forward, Eleanor didn’t directly acknowledge Barbara. “For now, things are stable...”
“Nonsense!” Barbara exclaimed. “How can you...”
Now Eleanor slammed down a fist, causing Barbara to jump back in her chair. A younger witch, off on the far side of the Hall, almost cried out in alarm.
After a moment of shocked silence, Eleanor continued. “As I was saying, the ruby coven has been temporarily contained. However, moving forward, we need to execute a clear and cohesive policy regarding the Zarth incursion. To this point, the Council as a whole has failed to accomplish this most basic of tasks. It is that very failure, I regret to say, that has forced the calling of this Conclave.”
While frankly admitting the Council had royally screwed things up, Eleanor was now forcing all seven Elders to take collective responsibility. The implication being, obviously, that if Barbara and her allies hadn’t interfered in her executive direction, everything would have been fine.
“I would agree wit
h our esteemed Coven Leader!” Barbara countered, her voice ringing out over the entire Hall. “As a whole, we have failed to aggressively protect and advance the Coven’s interests. For that we must all assume some measure of responsibility, beginning with the Coven Leader herself!”
And that, of course, was the obvious counter-argument. But in making it, the Deputy Coven Leader was publically, and directly, challenging Eleanor personally. If the Coven Leader couldn’t effectively respond, her reign would be over.
While everyone knew things were bad, many apparently hadn’t realized today’s Conclave would feature open warfare among the Elders. The tension throughout the Coven was palpable, no one moving a muscle for fear of drawing unwanted attention.
“Very well. Then here is what I propose.” Now a firm forefinger came down on the table before her, Eleanor’s gaze slowly sweeping the Hall. “A single question, for everyone to vote on. Do you retain confidence in my ability to lead our Coven? A simple yes or no. If the majority have lost faith in me, then I will immediately step down as Coven Leader.”
At this, someone off to Tiffany’s left actually gasped. A few witches fearfully craned their heads to see who it was.
“But if the bulk of my sisters still trust in my leadership,” Eleanor firmly continued, “then we can simply dispense with all this other nonsense and proceed directly to how I intend to deal with our newfound ruby sisters.”
A round of open muttering now broke out across the Hall. Many women stared at the Council table in open disbelief, nervously touching their earth stones.
“Wow!” Brooke exclaimed from behind Tiffany.
“Did you know this was coming?” Marissa urgently whispered in Tiffany’s ear.
Mutely, Tiffany shook her head, intently studying Eleanor and Barbara.
This, of course, was a very bold play. By demanding a vote of confidence now, Eleanor was cutting Barbara’s dissent off at the knees. For how could anyone persist in openly opposing her, if the entire Coven had already endorsed Eleanor’s continued leadership?