“I stay,” the Dreth told him, his words coming between short bursts of pain.
The Morgana glanced toward him but addressed Lars. “He will not want to leave the field of battle. Let him stay.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the team leader muttered sarcastically. “Now tell me something I don’t know.”
The tiniest smile curved her lips. “You cannot come with me here. It is too dangerous. My apologies.”
“What?” But the Morgana waved her hand and magic surged over them and locked them in place.
“Great,” Avery grumbled. “She could at least have let me fall.”
“No, this is much better,” Brenden bitched. “This way, we get to see what comes next.”
“I’m not sure I want to.”
As if on cue, the Morgana’s hand exploded.
The team gasped and their hearts plummeted.
“Shit,” she said and sounded rather like Stephanie. She reached over and touched her left hand to the stump. Flesh sizzled and the smell of burning meat rose around them.
In the stands, murmurs ran through the watching Dreth. She heard the admiration in their tones and caught comments comparing her strength to their own—as though that could ever be—and inside, she cursed.
It hurt like a bitch. That’ll teach me to play with Nihilistic energy while I have random gMU inside me. What the fuck was I thinking? She stared at the stump. This will be a bitch to regrow.
She looked at where the Dreth champions had finally straightened their lines and prepared to attack.
Amplifying her voice with the last of her energy, she called to them, “It is said that when one side sends one and the other side sends many, that all the respect belongs to the victor.”
A murmur of agreement rose from the stands and the champion’s leader jerked his head in a single nod.
Sure of their understanding, she continued, “Then, should I lose, the respect from the families will transfer, providing me much disrespect—a mere shadow to be ignored.”
Again, the stands murmured in agreement and she went on. “However, should I win, you will bow in deference to me and my team. To Vishlog, who took the strike to keep me here. For my people, for those who respect me, you will bow.”
Another murmur ran through the stands as her eyes shifted from black to a milky white and her voice dropped an octave into the depths of space. “You will bow...or you will die.”
In the support room, V’ritan turned to Jaleck. “Can she do that?”
“Change the terms from a team battle to single?”
“Yes...that.”
“She just did.”
“But will they accept it?”
“The Council of Families is seated in those stands and they all agreed. It is on record. No one can deny it.”
“But—”
“We can’t interrupt them, V’ritan.”
“She’s only—”
“It will be all right.” Jaleck laid a hand on his shoulder. “It will. You’ll see.”
Despite her words, the ambassador’s tone sounded anxious and V’ritan looked at her. Seeing her face marked by a tension that belied her words, he covered her hand with his own.
“Yes. Yes, it will.” He drew a shaky breath. “We can’t intervene, can we?”
“She would never forgive us if we did.” Jaleck sighed. “And the door is locked. We can’t intervene until the fight is over.”
They turned to watch the screen as the Dreth champions charged.
The laughter that rolled across the field did not belong to Stephanie and V’ritan groaned. The Morgana was in complete control. There was no chance of mercy now.
As they watched, she gestured with her remaining hand and a lattice of glittering darkness erupted into being before her. The Dreth did not slow. The lead warriors refused to let her magic intimidate them despite what the shield had done to them before.
The first to encounter the lattice disappeared in a spray of blood and gore, transformed into hundreds of tiny cubes of steaming meat. Energy sizzled as he vanished and the smoke and scent of burning flesh filled the arena once again.
The Dreth behind him threw themselves back and several breathed audible sighs of relief as the Morgana drew the lattice away from their front lines. When she had moved it ten feet closer to herself, she stopped.
One of the warriors fired his weapon, but the blast was also caught by the mesh and cascaded in ripples of silver over the net before the energy fell like powder to the ground. He threw the blaster aside in disgust, and it shattered to fling pieces of metal in a flurry.
Another picked up a stone and they all watched it broken to dust. They stopped.
Some went to move around the edges of the lattice, so the Morgana extended it until it touched the far wall. They started toward the other edge, and she did the same. Now, they stood on one side of a glistening black fence and she and her team stood on the other.
As they stared at her, dumbfounded, she increased its height and extended it thirty feet in the air. The Dreth in the stands closest to the edge of the arena shrank back. Behind her, she heard a whisper.
“Did you know she could do that?”
Marcus or Johnny had asked but it didn’t matter. Lars’s response was quite clear. “No. No, I did not.”
She couldn’t tell which of them was more stunned and it didn’t matter either.
Another of them snickered. “See? She really can beat them with one arm tied behind her back.”
“It doesn’t need to be tied.”
Lars groaned. “Seriously? Is that the best you can do?”
“Can’t. Move. Pinned to a wall. So, yeah.”
As if to prove a point, the Morgana raised her hand—or, rather, raised one hand and a stump. She took a step forward, and the lattice moved before her. The Dreth took a step back and she pressed on.
Step by step, she drove them back. In the stands, there was a commotion. The Lords of Hachtech, Endrageth, and Echgrech had returned to the judges’ dais.
“Magic has no place in the Fortress,” the Lord Hachtech declared. “She should not be allowed to use it.”
“You have to make this clear.”
The lead judge looked at them, his face stern with disapproval. “You have had your one opportunity to approach to the judges. You need to sit down, shut up, or take the place of one of them.”
He rose and pointed to the Dreth champions in the arena.
“But I—” Hachtech sputtered, and the official cut him off.
“One more word, and I’ll throw you over myself.”
The lord gaped but closed his mouth quickly. He turned away abruptly and stalked to his seat and the other two followed. On the field below them, what was left of their warriors backed away another step.
The Morgana advanced and the champions retreated one step at a time, their eyes wary as they watched the lattice move before her.
Her voice growled out around them, crawled over their skin, and set their teeth on edge. “I will not change my mind. Bow or die.”
“She’ll really do it.” Avery sounded worried.
“Yup. If they don’t bow, she’ll move that thing over them and turn them into mincemeat.”
“We have to stop this—”
“Sure. Why not? Why don’t you show us how it’s done?”
“How what’s done?” Frog asked and Marcus gave a sigh of relief.
“Oh, nothing. You know, Morgana stuff.”
Frog sat bolt upright. “Who the fuck let her out to play?”
He poked the haze of blue that confined them. “And what the fuck is this doing here?”
“Morgana,” Marcus told him as if that explained it all.
Vishlog groaned and Lars crouched beside him.
“Vishlog. You need to wake up, buddy. We need you.” He paused and looked at the arena where the Dreth were rapidly running out of room. “Stephanie needs you.”
The warrior squinted, stared at the scene, and blinked and sq
uinted again. “That is not good.”
“You’re telling me,” Frog agreed. He sniffed. “What the fuck is that awful smell?”
“You don’t want to know,” Lars told him and turned to the Dreth. “Vishlog, I need something. There has to be another way.”
His teammate shook his head. “There is no other way.” He grunted and raised a finger toward where the three lords stood and stared over the balcony at their retreating forces.
“Leaders of...families...put them in this position. Leaders must change it or...the warriors...cannot yield.”
Lars thought about that for a moment. “Frog,” he snapped, “come here.”
“But I just woke up.”
“Good, it means you’ll listen for a change. So, you heard Vishlog.”
Out in the arena, the Morgana took another step forward and her adversaries took one back. The mesh had curved to herd them closer together and force them back into their ranks.
The rearmost rank reached the wall.
The Witch took another step and the third rank backed into the rear rank.
She smiled and raised her foot.
Behind her, Lars’s voice rang out. “Morgana! New information on tactics!”
She hesitated but set her foot down again. The front line of Dreth breathed a soft sigh of relief and the observers echoed it. She turned and raised an eyebrow at her team.
“Release Frog!” Lars yelled.
After a moment, she raised her right stump and waved it. Frog looked at Lars and then at her.
“Well,” he said, “I guess that means I can go.”
He stood and took a cautious step into the blue. When nothing happened, he took another and moved through it without difficulty. As soon as he was clear, he sprinted to where the Morgana waited.
“Vishlog says...” he began, and she lowered her head to listen.
When he was done, she smiled.
“So, let it be done,” she declared and pivoted slightly to look at where the Lords Hachtech, Endrageth, and Echgrech stared into the arena.
Frog backed away slowly. He was unwilling to leave her but had no desire for her to hurl him the width of the arena. Reluctantly, he moved toward the rest of the team.
Leaving the mesh in place and ignoring the warriors beyond it, she walked toward the lords. Around them, the other senators, lords, and ladies moved back. As she came to stand on the other side of the mesh below them, the other family representatives abandoned the front two rows of the stands entirely to leave the three Dreth isolated and alone.
“You!” the Morgana called and addressed them directly, “shall join them.”
Endrageth drew back but it was too late. She gestured with her good hand and a swirl of darkness coalesced out of the mesh to dissolve the wall and floor beneath them.
He shrieked as he fell and Echgrech gave a startled cry, but Hachtech roared with annoyance.
“What in Tegortha’s name do you think you are doing?”
She cast him a cold glance before replying.
“Now, your decision is their decision,” she said and walked to her original position.
When she reached it, she looked at the Dreth champions and their lords and took a single step forward.
“Yield.”
“We are lords of the Council of Families,” Hachtech shouted. “You cannot do this to us.”
“You would have seen it done to your warriors. Now, yield.”
Her next step was followed immediately by another and then another, and it was soon clear that she did not intend to stop. Hachtech opened his mouth to argue but she continued her advance.
“Yield!” she shouted when the second rank of Dreth backed into the third. “Yield,” she demanded when the first rank backed into the second and there was nowhere else to go.
The Dreth champions held their breaths and the Morgana paused.
“I don’t see you bowing.” She snarled and nudged the mesh.
Hachtech dropped to his knees, followed swiftly by Echgrech and Endrageth
She surveyed the warriors.
“Kneel?” she asked. “Or die?”
The champions knelt as one.
As they did so, the blue haze vanished from around her team. The cats bounded to their feet and darted across the field toward her and the team raced behind them as best they could. Lars wrapped an arm around Vishlog’s and hauled the Dreth to his feet.
He looked at Marcus. “Go!” he shouted.
Avery and Johnny supported Brendan, and Frog started toward her. He was hurting but when he saw the dark lattice start to decompose, he broke into a jog. Marcus ran past him, one arm pressed across his gut as he raced the breakdown of the energy net.
Sparks flew along its strands and it crackled angrily. He tracked the breakdown to the floor and reached the Morgana at the moment that she collapsed.
“I think I need some painkillers,” she whispered and he breathed a sigh of relief.
Stephanie had returned.
In the stands above them, the crowd roared and the arena echoed with approval of the Families of Dreth. As her team gathered around her, the stadium reverberated with their repeated accolade as the Witch was welcomed as a part of their world.
“That is a Dreth!” they roared and applauded as she was lifted and carried from the arena, the stump of her arm hanging limply for all to see.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Stephanie woke to the smell of antiseptic and snoring. Another hospital?
“Son of a bitch.” When she opened her eyes, she turned her head and saw Vishlog, his head tipped back and mouth open, snoring in a chair beside the bed.
White wrapped his torso and he wasn’t wearing a shirt.
“I hope you’re wearing pants, buddy,” she muttered and let her gaze drift around the room.
Lars lay in a couch, a pillow supporting his head while his shoulders rested on one arm and his calves hung over the other. He was wearing pants. Granted, they were only sweatpants and he sported bandages around his bare chest and one arm, but they were there.
She looked at them both and rolled her eyes. “Seriously, guys? I bet you’re not supposed to be in here. The nurse will have your hides.”
Neither of them stirred and their soft snores were almost comforting in the too-quiet room while they slept. She sighed, looked at the ceiling, and remembered the battle—all of it.
When she recalled how it felt to handle the Nihilistic energy, she shuddered and drew a sharp breath, closed her eyes, and took stock of herself. She felt okay, but...
A tingling in her arm broke through her chain of thought and she stopped to focus on it. The stump at the end of it was an unpleasant reminder of what handling the Nihilistic could do.
“Seriously?” she asked it but noticed an inch of new growth at the end, the start of a new hand. “Already?”
As she spoke, she became aware of the gMU flowing into her system. Startled, she checked the magic inside her and was relieved when she found it filling the tanks and not spinning into a more concentrated form.
What was more of a relief was that there was not a trace of nMU anywhere—either inside her or around her. She looked for a tank where she might have inadvertently stored some and didn’t find one of those, either.
She breathed another sigh of relief. “It’s not like I want those two parts anywhere near each other,” she murmured and stared at her slowly forming hand.
“You’re lucky that it wasn’t stored in what passes for your head,” V’ritan told her as he strode through the door on the other side of the room. “I don’t think you’d grow that back.”
Brilgus snorted and followed him in. A nurse bustled past and ignored them both. To her relief, she went over to check on Lars. The King’s Warrior came to stand on the opposite side of the bed to Vishlog.
Stephanie noted the worried look on his face and sighed. “It would be nice if I could stop waking up in hospitals and being in bed when I see you.”
He quirked
an eyebrow and his eyes sparkled. “How else can I get you to sit still long enough to talk?”
“Oh...it’s like that is it?” She gestured at the room around her. “All this? A giant Meligornian conspiracy to get me still for long enough so you can talk to me.” She pretended to pout. “That’s not very nice, you know.”
“Neither is giving an old man heart failure every thirty seconds or so. Do you know how big those champions were?”
“Well, duh! They’re Dreth.”
“And now you’re sassing the King’s Warrior.” He tutted and shook his head. “Do you have no sense of diplomacy?”
Stephanie frowned. “I didn’t kill anyone, did I?”
His eyebrows raised dramatically. “Only one that I recall, but you came very close a few other times.”
She shrugged. “They were being unreasonable, and my guys were gonna get themselves killed in an unfair fight.”
“All a result of your lack of diplomatic skills. You should learn not to piss so many people off.” He smiled as he said it and she couldn’t help but smile in return.
“It’s all your fault,” she told him. “You brought me here.”
“Actually, it’s all Ambassador Jaleck’s fault. It was her idea.” His face clouded. “She says she’s very sorry, by the way.”
“Tell her it’s okay. She did what she had to so we could keep her thick-headed world safe.”
“I’ll tell her you said that.”
“Good. You make sure you do. She probably needs a good laugh.”
“Honestly, I don’t know how you make any friends.”
“I’m lucky, I guess. What I’m not lucky in is ending up in a hospital bed at the end of whatever scheme they get me into.”
V’ritan looked shocked. “So it’s all my fault, now, is it?”
“Well, every time I’m around you, I wake up in a room needing medical help and you’re there when I wake up.”
Brilgus stifled a chuckle as if he could see where she was going, and V’ritan’s expression turned to one of mild horror.
Stephanie ignored them both. “The important part of all this is that you are the common denominator so it must be you I’m unlucky around.”
Witch Of The Federation III (Federal Histories Book 3) Page 33