The Witch (4 page)

She would not fight him, but he did have questions that she would be answering. Starting with why a little witchie—because he sensed no plantling skills in her—was in the sacred Dardaptoan temple dedicated to the highest worshipers of his sister.

That always mystified him, the idea that his sister and Nelciana were revered as goddesses. They were not goddesses, just old and powerful. Dardaptoans only grew stronger the greater their age.

Much like he was old and powerful. He was no damned god, and he never would be.

By age alone he was far more powerful than this girl, but as he looked into the eyes that he knew he had seen before, he wondered.

Was he?

He waved a hand, and set her free from his hold. “Speak, for I wish you no harm.”

“Then who—or what—are you?”

Who was he? At times he did not know the answer to that. Especially not in the days of now. Once, he had been one of the younger sons of the Dardaptos line. Then he had become the last leader of that same line.

Now…he was still the leader of his people, but only in a city, in a world, he had yet to understand. But they had followed him to first Easchu and then to this Relaklonos world. Their trust and faith in him, the Dardaptos son who didn’t deserve to lead, had long humbled him.

“I am no one.” He bowed, but kept his eyes on her. She was intriguing, with her narrow feminine body and skills of battle. “I am Jushua Dardaptos.”

Her head went back and her eyes darkened, her witchie skills flaring before him. “You lie. The last Dardaptos son has been dead for almost five thousand years.”

“Know that for fact, do you?” How did a mere child know of him? None of the Gaian Dardaptoans had known about his family. Only a few had known more of his sister than her first name. And only those knowledgeable were the prognosticators and predictors, or those with the ability to see into the past. It was not common knowledge, at all.  Deliberately, to protect his sister from the Dark Sorcerer’s reach. The bastard had long been able to bend the barriers between the worlds far too easily.

“You might say that.” She held out a hand, and the shillelagh he’d tossed across the room returned to her. She did something to the weapons and they disappeared. But he knew they were around somewhere within reach. “Now, truth.”

“Who are you?”

“Loren.”

“A second name?” He admired the way she kept her body between his and her mother. The mother had yet to speak or move—a deliberate choice on his part—but the girl had yet to turn and look for herself.

Had yet to give him a vulnerability or an opening. She was far from stupid, this little witchie. He wondered just how powerful she was, yet again. Druids were of two main lines, those of the plant gifts and those of general element manipulation. Which was she?

“Nellano.”

“I see.” She claimed a variant of a name from his world.

Did Nelciana know she had a follower—and there was no doubt the girl was of Druidic blood—claiming such close kinship? Was it the girl’s intention to claim a relationship as family with the very goddess who had created her?

Interesting. Either this girl was extremely strong in her skills, strong enough to know that she could claim goddess blood—or she was of that ancient line, somehow.

Intriguing.

“Why are you here?”

“Because this is where I am supposed to be.”

“Pardon?”

“Destiny leads, and I am to follow. I have no illusions against this. Perhaps meeting you was my path? I do not know. The Four Fates control such things.”

“Nasty assholes, the Four Fates.” They had certainly destroyed his line. “I prefer to say screw them whenever they try to manipulate me.”

“If there is anything I have learned in my lifetime…it is that you cannot escape the Four. It is best to not try.”

She was lying.

He could sense it. “Come. We shall leave this temple. Find my companions and speak more of your destiny.”

“Now why should I do that? I don’t know you.”

“No. You do not. But do you wish to stay in this…crypt? It is horrible. And nothing like my sister.”

She tensed and studied him. “Rhomma was not blonde. Her hair was dark as the earth.”

“No more games.” He grabbed her and jerked her closer. His sister’s
name,
let alone hair color, was something she should not know. Her power beat against his, but he ruthlessly shoved it back with just a tilt of his head. “Tell me how you know of her.”

“Let me go.”

“Not until I get the answers I seek.”

“If you are the Jushua you claim to be, you will know me. Look at me and tell me that you do not.”

Was it as simple as that? Somehow he doubted it. “Do not prevaricate. Answer.”

“Go to the Three Hells.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been touched by the flames.”

She erupted in his arms, again.

It was all Jushua could do to keep her from taking his head off.

Loren knew it was a battle she would not win. He was too physically strong, and something in this temple to the Dardaptoan goddess was dampening her abilities.

She did not know if she believed him or not. He certainly looked like the one he claimed to be. But she had lived many a lifetimes, had seen many things in those times. Including those who could take the physical shell of others, and use that mantle for evil. How was she to know whether he was that kind of thing?

How could she risk it, with her mother there behind her and so vulnerable?

Loren fought. She pulled her shillelagh free, though he had her left hand in his. She still had her right, and she used it to crack the stick across his shoulder.

It did little good; only serving to anger him more.

He twisted, and she felt the bone in her left wrist break.

Loren ignored the pain.

It was not the first time she had hurt. Another gift of her curse—she remembered each of her deaths, in clear detail. Some had been truly agonizing.

A simple broken wrist would matter little in the grander scheme of things. And she healed quickly.

She kicked out, catching him behind the knee. He was large and heavy, but she surprised him.

He fell, taking her with him.

Loren pushed her uninjured hand, still clutching the small wooden club, deep into his neck.

He grunted. She swung again, connecting with his temple.

It didn’t bring him down, but it slowed him enough that she could scramble across the cracked tile floor. Toward her mother.

If she could get her mother to safety somehow…Loren should never have brought the other woman. She should have made her mother stay far away.

Hard fingers wrapped around her ankle and flipped her. An even harder chest pressed against hers. Guy was built like an ox. He crushed her into the stone floor.

She had a hard time getting enough room for her lungs to work.

Death by suffocation was one she’d yet to experience, dammit. “Get…off.”

“No. Tell me…who are you?”

**

She was a full grown and fully developed female of some serious skill. That’s who she was.

What name she called herself meant little. He aimed only to subdue at this point. He could decide what to do with her at a later time.

Jushua forced himself to forget about the way her body felt pressed beneath his. It had been a long while since he had enjoyed the intimacy of a willing woman’s body. She was definitely female; he could feel the soft, welcoming proof of that against him.

He could also feel the strength of her powers thrumming through her body. Had she been able to raise a hand toward him, he’d no doubt have found himself knocked through the stone columns around them.

But he was not without such powers himself. He used what magics he possessed and bound her with ties that could not be seen, anchoring her arms to her sides. “Now, if you cooperate I will leave your mouth unbound.”

“What are you planning?” She was furious, and he could see that in the Druid pretty eyes glaring at him.

“I don’t know yet. I’ve never captured a witchie Druid. A plantling one, yes. Less than a year ago, actually. Cass was quite fun.”

“Witchie? Plantling? This isn’t a children’s story.”

No. But that was what the babes of his people called the almost mythical Druidic beings. And the terms had stuck. “No, but the terms are accurate. And I plan…to wait.”

“For what?”

“You’ll see.” He was not about to leave the girl alone, not with the strength of the Druidic skills evident in her.

And he was not leaving the mother alone and vulnerable. He could sense that where the daughter was greatly powerful, the mother most definitely was not.

She was human.             

He wondered at that. Druids didn’t often mate outside their own Kind. “We wait for the others. This is not a safe place for a human. Nor for a young witchie girl.”

“Let her go.”

“I don’t plan on harming her. I have a tenderness, if you will, for mothers. You should not have brought a human woman to these ruins. Nasty things have happened in this place lately, from what I hear.”

“She is my mother. And she insisted. We did not know we were coming here today. The Four Fates guided us.”

“I’ve yet to see a human guided by the Four.” He hauled his little captive witchie to her feet. She felt so inconsequential in his arms. Interesting.

He’d always found contradictions intriguing.

He looked at her, and then at the mother. The mother wasn’t very old herself. Less than a half-century, he suspected. Built very much like her daughter. Light. Pretty.

He could most likely carry both women easily. One over each shoulder.

Jushua knew himself well. He was never one to stand in one place when he could be moving. Decision made. He tossed the girl over his shoulder, then walked to the other.

He felt the anger strum through the witchie. He patted her on the butt. “Settle down. I’ve changed my mind. I do not like the idea of staying in this place for too much longer. This city has faced great attack recently. I do not wish to be caught unawares.”

He scooped the mother up and over his free shoulder. He could almost smell the fear and worry that consumed her. Poor little human; his was a way of life was one that few humans would ever understand. “Come, ladies. For this temple is one we shall leave and quickly. It gives me a feeling I do not wish to delve into.”

He carried his burdens from the temple.

He was most definitely Jushua.
Great
…

The only Dardaptos brother that she had not liked in her first life. The annoying one. How was it that he was alive? He was a warrior, and had been a damned good one back then. The stuff legends were made of. He would have been in the heart of the battle, with his brothers, right?

She had been so certain that all had died that day. So certain.

Eighty lifetimes she had not searched for survivors. If she had, would she have found Kennera, and apparently Jushua?

She consoled herself with the knowledge that she wasn’t meant to. The Fates hadn’t wanted her to find them before now. She had to take comfort from that.

Where was he taking them? She knew her mother must be terrified. Loren recognized Jushua, but there was no way her mother could know he wasn’t a monster coming to take them away.

Loren had told her nothing about the past lives, or what task lay before her. She’d had dreams as a child, but they had upset her mother so much she’d kept them quiet. Especially after her father was gone.

But today…today she’d told her mother the Fates wanted her to go to Dardanos today.

And she had found Jushua. Why?

She was obviously meant to find him, wasn’t she?

**

He carried his Druid captive from the temple and toward what had once been the center of the resort. It was where Barlaam and Nalik had said to be. He was interested in getting the other males’ opinion on the new situation. So he dutifully returned to the meeting place.

Jushua followed orders—sometimes. When it suited his purpose.

He wasn’t certain what he was to do with the little witchie, but there was no good reason why a Druid would be wandering around this place. And hadn’t all Druids from the Gaian world been ordered to Levia, home of Nelciana and her children? Why had this one not obeyed?

Somehow this little Druid witchie was probably a handful for those who cared for her.

The mother had apparently failed at teaching her daughter about the basic tenant of safety.