Witch's Reign

by Shannon Mayer

  Memories of long-ago training surged through me and with them came the words I’d tried so hard to forget. “I will face death and laugh as it comes for me.” I twisted the blades around once, settling them against my forearm. I put one foot behind me, bracing my body for the impact that was going to come in about three seconds. I’d seen Bryce train with this move a hundred times, taking the blow of a bigger animal, another lion usually to practice, to learn how to roll with the weight of the other creature. The Wolf was double that big at least, even if I was nowhere near the size of my brother. There was no other choice. It was do the dance of death and pray I could at least die with dignity. More than I’d been living with, I knew now. The bitter, angry Zamira was not someone I liked all that much.

  “You’re going to die,” he snarled as he steadied himself, pushing to his feet.

  “Then I will die with honor.” I whispered the final words, feeling the weight of them on the tip of my tongue, my eyes blurring with tears even though I wasn’t sad. I wasn’t scared. I just . . . felt this moment like I’d been preparing for it my whole life, which was ridiculous. Stupid. I was never going to be trained for battle like my brother, not when my mighty shifted shape was a damn house cat.

  All my thoughts fled as the Wolf launched at me, his mouth and front paws reaching for me. I bent backward, going into a limbo with the flexibility only a cat had, as he sailed above me. I drove the two kukri blades upward and the Wolf’s momentum opened him up like nothing else I could have done. A spray of hot blood splashed across my face and I closed my eyes against the sensation, against the taste of his life’s blood on my lips as I peeled him open like a ripe piece of fruit.

  I fell backward, unable to keep myself in that limbo for long. The snow caught me and I waited for the Wolf to spin and be on me, to snap my head off with a single bite. Blinking through the blood, I stared up at the clouded sky and the snowflakes that fell, melting as they touched my wet, warm skin. I rolled to the side and peeked up over the edge of the snow. The Wolf lay on his belly, his back legs sticking straight out behind him. His body unmoving.

  I pushed to my feet and carefully made my way around the side of the big canine. As I reached his head, his eyes rolled to me.

  “The Ice Witch will kill you.” He grinned at me, blood flowed out over his blue gums and tongue and a whoosh of air rushed from him.

  I picked up my flail, flinching at the heat in the handle, and stepped back. “Not before I finish you off, dog breath.”

  I brought the flail down hard on his head, shattering his skull with a resounding, sickening crunch that echoed through the still winter landscape.

  The last of the air that slid out of him was not just plain old air, though. It spun and danced into a whirlwind that picked up speed until a figure stood—ethereal and transparent—in front of me.

  A woman, a crown of bones and diamonds on her head, and in the center of the bones sat a giant blue sapphire. She wore a dress of blood red and her lips were rouged to match. She was pretty in a harsh way. More than that was the power emanating from her. I had no doubt I was staring at the Ice Witch, the Queen of Pojhola.

  Her eyes narrowed on me and I found myself glaring back, a low rumble escaping me. Like a pissed off kitty cat.

  “Leave my family alone, bitch,” I snarled, the words flowing before I thought better of them.

  She smiled, but there wasn’t an ounce of kindness behind it. A gust of wind snapped between us, blowing the image into the clouds. I watched the sparkling air as it moved north against the wind.

  “Yeah, that’s not normal at all,” I muttered.

  I made myself bend and wipe my blades on the Wolf’s pelt, then tucked them away. Using the snow, I scrubbed the worst of the blood off my face and cloak, rubbed the flail into the snow to rid it of the hair and blood but it was already clean. Like it had never been used. Well, that was handy. At least the cloak I wore was red. Shock was setting in. There were no two ways about it. I needed to find Lila, Balder, and Maks and Batman, and get something warm into my belly.

  I glanced at the steam rolling off the blood in the snow and I almost considered it. I shook my head against the rise of nausea that caught me off guard. Nope, that was not going to go well if I let my mind wander into drinking the Wolf’s blood to stay warm. Time to go.

  Time to find my friends and get our asses through the next chunk of territory and hope to hell it went better than this one.

  At least, that was the plan. The flail against my back heated suddenly, like a red-hot poker laid across my back. I screamed and went to my knees as the pain lanced any cohesive thought I had in my brain.

  Chapter Twelve

  “You know,” Merlin said softly, “she did much better than even I thought.” He touched the sphere that floated in front of him and Flora. She’d created it, though he could have. He’d told her that he’d been feeling lazy, which she believed. He couldn’t tell her yet just how dangerous it was, his coming here.

  His companion snorted.

  “Well, she certainly did better than that fool, Steve. I practically gave him a map of how to get by the three guardians, and he just ignored me. In fact, he told me to go flounce myself!” She shook her head. “You knew he’d be like that, didn’t you? You knew he’d fail no matter what help he was given.”

  Merlin smiled. “He’s a typical beta lion, thinking he can muscle his way through everything. This is going to take a bit more finesse than crash and smash.”

  The sphere twisted and turned, showing Zamira in the snow, passed out.

  The flail was working its magic on her, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. His jaw ticked. “She will have to figure out this part herself if she is to conquer the flail and make it her own.”

  “Not possible.” Flora added softly, “I know you liked her. I know you wanted her to win for you, but now you can find someone else to help us. Someone with a little strength at least.”

  That was just it, there was no one else to help do what had to be done. Even though the oracle had told them it would take two desert-born creatures to take down the wall amongst other things, he knew it had to be Zamira.

  If not for the flail, she was otherwise unharmed from her encounter with the White Wolf. Which was impressive in itself.

  “I’m surprised she’s not hurt more,” Flora said. “I mean, how did she know how to kill him?”

  He was quiet for a moment, thinking on how to best word his response. “The long and short is she was trained alongside her brother. While her brother is probably the one that would do the best, as he is a blend of Steve’s size and power and Zamira’s cunning and determination, he is beyond help.”

  “Pity.” Flora reached up and touched the sphere and the picture shifted to show Steve strapped in chains next to two females. All were stripped nearly naked, shivering and in various states of distress. “You didn’t tell Zamira that her rival was taken too, did you?”

  “I’m not that big of an idiot.” Merlin shook his head even though he’d done that very thing. Kiara was no longer her rival, and it showed Zamira’s strength that she would help the woman who’d bedded her—at the time—husband. Well, the two women who had bedded her at-the-time husband. “She’ll find out soon enough.”

  Flora gave a soft little hum. “What now?”

  “You go ahead and see if you can help Steve.” Merlin grinned at her. “And I will continue to help my player.”

  “Within the rules, no magic, correct?” She pointed at him. He crossed a finger over his heart.

  “I always play by the rules, Flora.”

  She rolled her eyes. “That’s a load of bullshit if I ever heard it.”

  Except that all their lives depended on Merlin holding to his word this time. If the emperor caught wind of Merlin . . . there would be no saving any of them. His eyes swept back to the sphere. “Perhaps. But in this case, you have my word. I want her to succeed, which means I have to play by the rules.”

 
He touched the crystal ball and Zamira in the snow came back into view. She had it in her. He just needed to figure out how to show her that her strength was truly there.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The pain scorching through me was a burning torch, a brand of flames that had been jammed against my spine and set my body on fire.

  Bits and pieces of my life flashed before me, my childhood in the desert, the Oasis, the pain of losing my family, the Stockyards, my friends there, and the kiss with Maks. All of it pooled around me and I knew this was somehow the payment I had to give for the taking the flail’s help.

  For using its strength.

  Now it would take mine.

  There was a flicker of something moving in the snow, a figure that swayed toward me, her smile a mirror of my own, her eyes a mirror of my own.

  My mother crouched in front of me.

  “Oh, my girl, you have taken the hardest path again, haven’t you?” Her hand reached out and brushed along my face, tender and soothing.

  “Mom,” I whispered, “help me.”

  “You’re dying, Zamira,” she said softly. “I do not know how to stop it. But you would be with me then. Safe.”

  I blinked back tears that slid off the tips of my eyelashes. I loved my mom, but I’d never known her, not really. She’d died when I was so young that the memories I had were nothing more than the stories my father and brother had given me of her. The snow around me melted as the heat increased under my skin, spreading outward through my limbs.

  My mother stayed there, watching me, pain in her eyes. “Zamira, you’re fighting it.”

  “I have to,” I whispered. “I’m not ready to die yet.”

  Her smile was gentle, showing only the tips of her canines. “I was like you, Zamira. Too small, a shifter that was not quite a lion. But your father saw my value and my strength. You must find your own.”

  I stared at her, understanding flowing through me. I was like my mother. And my father had loved her anyway despite her size, despite the fact that she wasn’t the powerhouse she could have been.

  “Flail.” I managed only that one word, the rest stolen from me on the pain that rocked through me.

  “Yes. It will draw your life force when you use it.” She brushed a hand over my cheek again, cupping my face.

  “Stop it,” I whispered as my heart began to pound, alternating between being violently fast and slowing to a near collapse.

  “Let it go,” she said. “You must let it go.”

  I rolled my eyes to where my hand clutched the wooden haft. My fingers were white with tension as they gripped the weapon. I drew a breath and willed my fingers to loosen, to let go even a little bit.

  I thought of Darcy depending on me. One finger relaxed.

  I thought of Bryce waiting on me to come home. Another finger.

  Of Lila. A third.

  Of Ish. A fourth.

  My ring finger remained glued to the handle. A fifth, I needed a fifth person that I cared for—Maks.

  My finger flew off the handle and I rolled away from the weapon, staring at it in the snow as if it had come to life.

  I scrambled up to my feet, swayed and fell to my knees. I felt like I’d not eaten in a week as I raced through the desert. My skin was parched, thin, and dehydrated. I swallowed hard and made myself scoop up snow and shove it in my mouth. Not the best thing to do, but it was all I had.

  There beside me sat the flail, seemingly harmless if you discounted the weapon itself. “You can just stay there in the snow, you fucking piece of shit weapon!” Let someone else use it, die on its point . . . I pushed slowly back to my feet, but I’d only taken a few stumbling, exhausted steps before I slowed. I couldn’t leave the stupid thing behind. It was too damn dangerous. What if a child found it and played with it? Could the innocent one die from such evil?

  Groaning, I turned, but it wasn’t there in the snow anymore. Fear flickered through me and I reached up to find the handle of the flail sticking above my shoulder, ready once more.

  It belongs to you now, my mother’s voice whispered.

  “Awesome, just fucking awesome that a psychotic weapon that wants to kill me likes me enough to just attach itself to my back like a damn cactus.” I clenched my hands at my sides in part because I wanted to grab the flail and chuck it off my shoulder, but I also did not want to touch it.

  Which meant it was just going to have to stay there. Forever.

  I stumbled through the snow, following Balder’s hoof prints through the trees. It wasn’t long before hoof beats reached my ears. Only it wasn’t Balder, but the other horse, Batman.

  He snorted and danced as he got close to me, his eyes rolling as his nostrils flared. “I know, I stink like blood and wolf. But the big bad wolf is gone.” I held a hand out to him and he slowly drew close enough to where I could grab hold of his reins.

  I pulled myself, groaning, onto the saddle and urged him forward, following Balder’s prints in the snow.

  They were headed straight north which was no good. We needed time to figure out how we were going to get past the next guardian. I knew enough to know that our luck would run out sooner rather than later. That’s just how it worked. I couldn’t use the flail again, that just wasn’t going to happen.

  Not if I wanted to make it all the way to Darcy.

  As I rode, I scanned the ground. Here and there were scarlet droplets in the snow.

  “He’s hurt,” I said to myself. But I’d already known that. However, if it was bad enough that he hadn’t stopped to fix it, just how bad was it?

  Batman snorted and I took it for a question.

  “No, I’m wrong. It’s not enough blood for it to be too bad, I think. Enough to slow him down though.” I grimaced. Slowing him down would mean slowing us down. Not that I was in tickety boo shape myself at the moment.

  One of my last conversations with Darcy rolled through me.

  We’d been outside the Stockyards, watching the few humans that remained on the outskirts try to harvest food in the wasteland. There had been two children in their number, and they’d been thin enough that their eyes had a hollowness to them. That had twisted in my gut like an impaled knife, so I’d offered to help them.

  Darcy snorted and pulled her long blond hair into a high pony tail as we walked to the humans. “Remind me again why we are helping a bunch of humans who’re going to die anyway? I need to make sure you really want to do this.”

  I grabbed the shovel and bucket for gathering the root vegetables. I didn’t want to look at her. She’d admitted to sleeping with Steve while we’d been married, admitted she’d been drunk and it had been a mistake, but still . . . she was my best friend. I didn’t understand how she could have done it.

  “Because,” I said. Weakness was not something I could afford to show, not even to Darcy. Especially not right now.

  “Not an answer,” she countered. “I want you to say it out loud.”

  Sand gods, I did not want to say it, but she was right. “Because my father would have helped them. Because protecting the weak was what he did. What we all did.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought. And where did helping people get your father?” Her voice softened. “You need to think like a proper supe, Zamira. Not like the bleeding heart that your father was. His softness got your family killed, wiped out. He got all of us wiped out.”

  I hated that she was right, but I also felt in the core of my being that I couldn’t just walk away. Not when I’d promised my father so long ago to try to help those who needed a hand.

  “I know,” I said. “I know I’ll probably get myself killed. But that’s why you’re here, to save my ass, right?”

  She snorted and flicked the back of my head with her fingers. “True enough.”

  I smiled as the memory faded, but the smile didn’t last as I spied a body on the ground ahead of us. Balder’s reins were tangled in a tree branch. Lila shrieked and shot in and out at large black shapes hopping toward Maks’s body, which
happened to be face down in the snow. Eight big dark carrion birds edged toward him, their beaks open; a low clicking sound emanated from their throats. I moved as if to grab the flail before I really thought about it, then paused. That was not a good idea, and it hadn’t been mine. It was like my hand had been drawn straight to it. Yeah, that was not good.

  I flexed my fingers and reached under my leg to grab the shotgun from the sheath. I smiled. “Chicken for dinner tonight?”

  Lila’s eyes shot to me. “I hate these birds. I don’t want to eat them.”

  “I got it. Out of my way,” I said.

  The eight carrion eaters circled Maks’s body. They were oversized like everything else in this world, strong, and well fed. Which did not bode well for Maks. I was going to have to move fast or they would fly off with all two hundred-plus pounds of him.

  I lifted the gun and aimed down the sights. “Bugger off, you shit heads.”

  They launched themselves not at me, but at the man on the ground, going for their defenseless prey. I booted Batman forward, and pulled the trigger as we galloped toward them.

  The bird closest to us spun its head my way, like an owl rather than a vulture, a split second before the first slug hit right between the eyes. The skull exploded, sending out a spray of blood and bone. I twisted to the side and pulled the trigger a second time into the next bird before it could launch itself at me. Bones crunched as it was sent flying, end over end, to crash into a tree twenty feet away with a rather satisfying thud and a poof of black feathers. I put my left heel to Batman, spinning him in place as I aimed at the third one. The bird launched straight at me, talons outstretched, and damned if he wasn’t big enough that he could have picked me up and carried me away by himself. Lila whimpered above me.

  “Kill them all, Zam!”

  I pulled the trigger, and the bird’s middle opened, flesh and feathers everywhere. Three down, five to go, and one more shot in the gun.