Rise (War Witch Book 1) (84 page)

She was starting to frown a bit, having thought of it all without meaning to, when Izra sauntered out of the bathroom, drying her hair. Spotting the warrior awake, the Elf shot her a warm smile and tossed the towel over a chair.

"Morning, sunshine," she said, then glanced at the window. "Well, sort of, anyway."

Chuckling silently, Ramora pulled herself up, leaning against the headboard as Izra moved to sit in her lap, giving her a long kiss. Wrapping her arms around the Elf, she savored it, feeling warmth spread through her as her Rabbit sang a very dirty little ditty.

"I don't know about you, but I'm starving, and that is cold,” Izra said with a sigh of contentment and a gesture towards the serving platter on the floor by the door when they finally broke from each other. "How about we go get something to eat?"

With a sly grin, Ramora slid her hands down Izra's back, wiggling her forward.

Laughing, the Elf half-resisted. "No, goofy, actual food. Seriously, I'm famished, and as good as you taste, you don't fill my belly."

The warrior feigned indignation, getting another laugh from the Elf, a sound that filled her heart with comfort. Nodding, she gave her another kiss, and got an extra one in return before Izra slid off her, falling across the bed.

Ramora got a pinch to her posterior before she got very far, and tossed a warning look over her shoulder.
Try it again, and you'll be waiting till dinner
. Izra read that clear enough and giggled as the warrior headed to the bathroom to clean up.

She'd been bluffing anyway. She had to pee too bad to do anything.

By the time she returned, the Elf had recovered her dress from wherever it had ended up, and was searching about under the bed for her shoes. Ramora admired the way the outfit clung to Izra as she grabbed a cotton shirt and leather slacks, then sat to tug her boots on as the Elf found her missing sandal. She couldn't help but laugh at the way the Elf waved it over her head triumphantly.

Ramora really didn't remember her taking them off last night. Or having them on. Her Rabbit whistled that it wasn't surprised. Her mind had been elsewhere. That only made her flush a bit, which the small spirit found immensely hilarious.

Wondering if one could cast a silence spell on their own Avatar, Ramora waited for Izra to get her shoes on, smirking at the Elf as she fumbled the laces. Getting a dirty look from her, she lead the way downstairs, where Layrn and Tia greeted them and bustled about fixing them some lunch, grinning to each other as they did.

Ham sandwiches and fried potato strips before them, Ramora gave Izra a curious look as the Elf all but inhaled her food. Spotting it, she tossed a snide look across the table, claiming it to be all the warrior’s fault she was so hungry. Ramora decided to let that alone, as they were in polite company. Mostly. Spotting the two Halfling women snickering towards them, she sighed and realized they really probably weren't.

"So," Izra said after her third sandwich. "I've been wondering. Do we have a plan at the moment?"

Ramora chewed on a potato stick and shrugged a bit. She hadn't had much of a chance since the citadel attack to think on it. With the team gone, and the harbor in ruins, she wasn't entirely sure how to proceed, only that she intended to.

The Elf nodded slowly, leaning back in her chair. "I'm with you. I assume you know that already, but I wanted to say it. I can't let what's happened pass. I'll be there, to hunt this monster down, and fight him at your side."

Giving her a soft smile, the warrior admitted she'd already figured the Elf would feel that way, and was glad to have her. She was going to need all the help she could get, since at the moment, it was just the two of them.

Izra frowned. "Four, you mean. Chara and Esteban will be with us."

Ramora shook her head, letting the Blessed of Hepheron know they wouldn't be coming. It was too dangerous, and neither of them were seasoned fighters. Taking them along would be taking them to their death.

"I'm not sure I can agree with that," Izra said. "In case you missed it, or are willfully ignoring it, that citadel likely wouldn't have fallen as quickly as it did without Chara's quick thinking. Leaving them behind isn't the smart tactical move here."

Shaking her head again, the warrior told her she wasn't going to allow it. Too many had already died, and her friends were too precious to her to risk them. It may not be the smart move, but it was the right one.

The Deep Elf sighed. "I suppose you have a point there. It's always our fate as Blessed, isn't it? To have to choose between what's right, and what's smart. Pity they never seem to be the same thing."

Giving a shrug, Ramora admitted that seemed to be the life of a warrior. Walking the tightrope between the lesser of two evils was the very nature of their existence.

"Gee, now I feel all chipper. Thanks for cheering me up." Izra gave her a sarcastic look as she said it.

The Blessed of Ramor looked over with a sad expression. They smiled while they could, grasped to life as tightly as they could, and did their best to not drown in their own sorrow, because of that fine line they walked. No one ever promised them it would be easy.

"Fair enough," the other woman shrugged. "Though, getting back to my original question, since I see you aren't going to budge on this, what do we do now?"

Settling back to think on that, Ramora's eye caught the man at the next table over as he read through the news, the large folded paper bearing a headline that caught her attention and sent her stomach plummeting. Pushing out of her chair, she walked over, trying to read the rest of the story.

"Can I help you?" the man asked as she hovered over his shoulder.

She gave him a smile and pointed at the paper. He gave her an annoyed look and jabbed a finger at the paper stand across the room. Hanging her head, she made a quick bow in apology and went to get one, ignoring the snort he gave her back. Izra stole her fried potatoes, watching with mild curiosity.

Snagging one, she moved to sit next to the Elf, unfolding the paper so they both could see the story. It only took a moment for Izra to see what had gotten her attention, her own face falling at the sight of it.

Large and bold on the front page was the black dragon, rearing back, breathing fire, the flag being flown by an armada of Demon Seed ships attacking merchant vessels between Lansing and Ricmar. In just a few days, over a hundred had been raided, and sunk, the Demon Seed navy vanishing without a trace after each attack.

"This is not a coincidence," Izra muttered, noting that the first attack was on the same day the flying citadel had laid siege to Lansing.

Ramora shook her head, trying to figure it out. If Draco had intended to capture Lansing, why attack and plunder merchant ships? There was no rhyme or reason to this. More disturbing was that Ricmar's potent naval force was having no luck in stopping it, the armada seemingly impossible to track. How did that figure in, and what was the goal of it?

"How did he even get a navy?" Izra mused. "There wasn't anything about that in the report we got."

Frustrated, the warrior pointed out that it had said nothing about a flying citadel, either. Yet, somehow, Draco had access to both. It left her to wonder what else he had at his disposal they weren't aware of.

Izra sighed, slumping in her chair. "It's bothersome to realize how very little we actually know about this guy, and what he can do. We still don't even know which Demon God Blessed him, for crying out loud."

Much less his goals
, Ramora agreed. While the goal of all Dark Blessed was to further the influence of the Demon Gods, Draco moved to a different tune than any Dark Blessed or Demon Seed the world had ever seen. His anonymity alone was enough of a problem, but now, they had to face the question of how vast his military power had gotten. How many ships did he have? How many flying citadels? How many troops? Certainly, his stronghold south of the Eastern Heights wasn't the real bastion of his power. It couldn't be, not with all of this.

Who was he? How had he grown so powerful? What was he up to? How could they find him? The questions spun around in her mind as she glared at the paper, trying to find some plan, some idea, that would let her locate, and stop, this threat. Nothing coming to her, she sagged, impotent anger burning in her heart.

She felt Izra's arm slide around her shoulders. "He'll make a mistake. They always do. When he does, we'll be there to take him out."

Nodding, the warrior couldn't shake her morose feelings, though. Somewhere, somehow, in the last eleven years, Draco had become the single most dangerous person in the world, and no one even knew anything about him. It defied reason.

"Ramora!" Chara shouted, bursting into the common room, Esteban on her heels as the young woman waved a paper at her. "Have you seen this?"

Izra held up the one that had been lying on the table. Chara nodded, tossing hers down as she and the Werecat sat across from them. Spotting the depressed look on her friend's face, Chara glanced to Izra, but got only a slight shake of her head from the Elf.

"I think I know what he's up to," Chara said.

Ramora's head popped up, giving her a warning look.

The other woman frowned. "Like it or not, I'm involved in this. You want to hear my theory or not?"

Scowling, the warrior waved her to go ahead. She chose to ignore the smug look Izra gave her. Damn Elf.

"Okay, so, the attack on Lansing and the pirating started on the same day," Chara said. "I don't think the citadel attack was supposed to capture the city. I think it was a feint."

"Hell of a feint," Izra snorted.

"The best kind are," the young woman replied. "The pirate attacks are a diversion as well. He's trying to draw as many Blessed to Lansing and Ricmar as he can."

Ramora's scowl faded as she considered that possibility. It left two options, neither of which she liked. The first, a mass attack to weaken the number of Blessed in the world, would be catastrophic. The second, so they were out of the way, was even less appealing, as it meant he had another goal in mind.

"Okay, so, why?" Izra asked.

Chara shook her head. "I'm not sure, but it made me realize that we've been playing his game all this time. I think he let that information about his stronghold get out, waited to see who took the bait of assembling a team to strike, and while we were training, he was launching his diversions."

"Getting a group of Blessed together and taking them out would draw a lot of attention," the Elf said slowly. "I don't know anyone with a Divine Mark who would let that slide. Odds are, there's dozens of Blessed on their way to Lansing and Ricmar, right now."

"Which is what he wants," Chara replied. "I'm sure of it. While all of you are focused on this, he makes a move elsewhere. Probably one nobody even thinks anything of. He's setting up the board to his liking."

"That doesn't make me feel better," Izra grumbled.

"Yeah, well, I'm sure whatever his next move is, it's going to make us all feel a lot worse when it happens," the young woman said. "I just can’t figure out what that move is going to be. He's way ahead of us, and in control of this game. He knows it, too."

"We've come to the same conclusion," Leena said, making all of them jump. She gave them an assessing look before adding, "His majesty, King Untar Fel, requests your presence at the castle immediately."

Ramora nodded as she rose, Izra at her side. Chara and Esteban stood as well, drawing a look of ire from the warrior, who motioned for them to stay.

"The request was for all four of you," Leena interjected, adjusting her glasses slightly.

Throwing her hands up in defeat, Ramora waved them to join.

"Like I wasn't going to anyway," Chara snorted.

Shaking her head, Ramora felt Izra's arm around her waist, the Elf whispering, "Told you so."

She could win battles against Demon Seed, but not her own friends. Somehow, Ramora knew, she'd best get use to that.

THE REPAIRS TO THE CASTLE
had only just started as the small band followed the assassin through the still shattered gates, heading across the courtyard amidst the hustle and bustle of construction. The obstacle course Chara had designed had already been dismantled, making room for piles of lumber and stone. Scaffolding rose up along the interior northern wall, masons hard at work shoring up the areas cannon fire had damaged.

Chara found it sad, in a lot of ways, that where she and the others had once laughed, worked, and prepared together had changed so much so quickly. She felt as if their ghosts lingered in the courtyard, still waiting to carry out the mission they'd all struggled so hard to be ready for.

Glancing over at Ramora, she saw her friend felt it too. The way her eyes saddened as she looked around, the slight slump in her shoulders giving away her emotions. By her side, Izra looked the same, still struggling with her own loss more acutely than the others were.

Justice had to be served for this
, Chara thought.
It can't go unanswered.
They'd been good people, not just Blessed. They'd been friends. The monster responsible must be held accountable. Draco had to pay for his sins. That was worth her life.

Inside, Leena led them to the training room they'd once used, what felt like ages ago already. Untar was already present, as were Shana and Rills, standing around the table that dominated the far end of the room, talking quietly. The Ascended especially looked haggard, the loss of Leto more painful to her than anyone.

"Good, you're here," Untar called, waving them over. "I've asked Captain Rills to sit in on this. I hope none of you mind."

After a general agreement it was fine, Ramora gave Shana a hug, as did Chara. The Ascended greeted the Blessed warmly, then held the other woman tightly, thanking her for keeping her together through her loss and the battle. It pained Ramora to see her young friend becoming a soldier in the war between Heaven and Hell, but as she looked at the two, she finally admitted it was happening, whether she liked it or not.