The Witch's Eye (33 page)

“They wanted to know where we
were going,” Creasy said.  His voice was low and garbled, like he’d swallowed glass.  “They started with Maur first.  I tried lying, tried bargaining, but they wouldn’t stop.”

“They didn
’t threaten to bite you?” Danica asked.

“No,” Creasy said.  His eyes
focused on something distant.  His salt-and-pepper beard was thicker than before, and his skin was more leathery.  He seemed to have aged ten years since they’d last seen him.  He looked at Maur.  “Is he going to be okay?”

“No,” Ronan said.  “No, he isn
’t.  We need to get him to someone who knows about Gol anatomy.”

“Meldoar?” Danica asked.

“That would be the best bet,” Ronan said.  “At the very least we need to get him back to Talon Company.  I’m not sure if they have the proper resources or not, but they’d have a better chance of taking care of him than we do.”

“
Where is Talon Company?” Danica asked.  “We’ve already been delayed.”

“I
’ll take him,” Creasy said.  “I’ll take him to Ath, and Meldoar if I have to.”  He looked at each of them.  “I’m sorry about what happened to your friend.  I wish it hadn’t.”

“It wasn
’t your fault,” Danica said.  She looked at Ronan.  “I’m sorry it took us so long to get back and help you.”  Her eyes went to the ground.  

“Yeah,” Ronan added.  “Me,
too.”

Creasy watched him. 
The warlock’s eyes were large and penetrating.  It seemed Creasy was staring into his soul.  Ronan felt the man’s spirit, a chill presence that licked at his flesh like an icy wind.  Light from the single oil lamp cast heavy shadows across their faces.

“I know you had to fight yourselves to come back,” Creasy said.  “I honestly wasn
’t sure if you would, but I’m glad you did.”  He motioned at Maur.  “He showed a lot of courage.  He’s the tallest one here.  But what happened to him was bound to happen eventually.”  He held a cup of water in his shaking hands.  “No one does what we do without getting hurt.  No one lives in these times without bearing scars.”  He took a drink.  “I’ll take your friend to safety.  Those bastards won’t bring me down again.  But now you two have to go.  The vampires aren’t the only ones looking for the Witch’s Eye.”

They made sure Creasy had everything he needed.  They had no mounts, and Ronan was almost ready to tell Danica to go on alone, but Creasy used his spirit to lighten Maur’s weight.  He secured the Gol to his back, and they used loose cords and a length of rope to make sure the small man was secure.

Creasy
wore grey and green fatigues and a long armor coat.  The vampires hadn’t done anything with his equipment.  He offered Ronan his HK45, but Ronan insisted he keep both it and the shotgun.  Ronan gave him his kodachi as well, which left him with a katana, a wakazashi and a few throwing daggers. 

More than enough.

The night was cold and deep.  The clouds faded into black tendrils of smoke, and the moon shone high and bright.  The plains were empty and desolate. 

Ronan hoped the Creed wouldn
’t be missed too soon.  Creasy and Maur needed time to get to safety.

“Northeast,” he told Creasy.

“My spirit will guide me,” he nodded. 

Maur
wore his red cloak.  Ronan made sure he had some extra cloth so he could lay his head down against Creasy’s back.  The Gol was awake, but only barely.  His eyes were glassy, and he seemed drunk. 

“You going to be okay?”
Ronan asked.

Maur smiled.  H
e was clearly in terrible pain.

“Maur thanks you,” he said
weakly.  “You didn’t have to come back.  Maur knows…it was difficult for you.”

Ronan
’s mind went back.  He stood at the bottom of the steps that led to the shrine.  He saw his reflection in the pool, and the face that stared back at him was haggard and pale.  The face of death.

“I
’ll do it again if I have to,” he said.  “But I won’t be happy about it.”

Maur
nodded. 

“Are you ready?”
Danica asked.

Creasy nodded.

“Good luck,” he said.

“And you,” she smiled.

Ronan shook the warlock’s hand.  He nodded at Maur.  He had a terrible feeling he’d never see him again.

The two men took to the plains with
Creasy’s spirit gathered around them in a red haze. 

Danica and Ronan followed the
river northwest.  They’d lost almost a full day.  Their boots squelched in and out of mud and shallow waters.  It was a few hours to midnight, but if they were lucky they could be back at the shores of Rimefang Loch before morning. 

“Thank you,” Danica said.

“For what?”

“For coming back with me,” she said.
  “For helping me find the way.”

NINETEEN

SIEGE

They passed wrecked warships, floating graveyards of smoking steel and bone.  Violent waves at the periphery of the sea gradually gave way to calmer waters as they approached the network of isles near the center of the Loch.  Cross watched the islands: they were all quiet, and seemed uninhabited.  Most were covered with dark forests and rows of sharp stone. 

The
derelict ships proved difficult to navigate around.  Cross thought at first there would only be a handful of them, some abandoned Ebon Cities warships or wrecked Southern Claw cutters, but they came across scores of dark-hulled vessels drifting in the dank waters or crashed against the razor shores, boats half-submerged in oil slicks or marooned in patches of black moss.  Fuel, smoke and grease churned from the rent metal hides and darkened the sea.  Ruined corpses drifted on the surface of the water. 

Flint piloted the
ir stolen pirate vessel slowly through the narrow channels.  They caught sight of an occasional stray undead out in the water, a lone zombie or a war wight too far away and too burdened by armor to pose any threat.  The moonlit waves were thick with bloody broth and floating dead.  Dark fliers appeared now and again, grim silhouettes against the pale midnight clouds.  The crimson haze of the rising sun hung in the distance.  The air was cold, and the spray of freshwater mist made the inside of the vessel slick. 

Cross kept Shiv bundled up in a blanket they
’d found onboard.  The Lith kept their eyes alert, watching for danger.

He
was surprised nothing challenged them.  They heard far-off bomb blasts and artillery and saw faint gold-white explosions to the south.  Sometimes the war howl of a Razorwing or the blast of a turbine engine sounded in the distance.  Occasional fins silently poked through the surface of the black water.  The dull groan of the motor seemed loud enough to be heard for miles in the still night. 

Cross
and Shiv sat at the back of the boat, near the small platform where Flint piloted the ship.  Rogue would come and point to a specific direction they wanted Flint to head or motion if they needed him to slow down or still the engine when vampire-driven fliers or Ebon Cities war boats came into view through the cloying mist.  The rest of the Lith stayed at the front of the long and wide vessel with the crystal horses and Musad.  The camel seemed bored with the voyage.

“Cross?” Shiv asked.

“Yeah?”

“What are we looking for?”

He hesitated. 

“
The gem that destroyed Dirge,” Cross said.

“But what is it?”

“I don’t know,” he said. 

“Y
ou’re just looking for it to find your friend,” she said.

“Yes.”  He smiled.  The night waters flowed by.  “Yes. 
All
of my friends.”

They rode in silence for a
time.  The Lith checked their weapons, recurve bows and razored gauntlets, serpentine swords and barbed spears.  Cross looked back at Flint and nodded, and Flint smiled, since he couldn’t hear a thing over the motor short of gunfire or an explosion. 

“Cross?” Shiv asked.  She
stared out into the night.

“Yeah?”

“What am I?” He heard the fear in her voice.

“I don
’t know,” he said.  “At first I thought you were a witch.”  He sat down on the bench next to her.  “And there’s nothing wrong with that.  My sister was a witch.  The friend I’m trying to find is a witch.” 

“But I
’m
not
a witch,” she said plainly, and she looked at him.  Her short hair was wet and wind-blown, and her expressive eyes locked on his.  She seemed so much older than twelve.  “You don’t know
what
I am.”

“No.  I don
’t.  But someone will.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know,” he said.  “There are plenty of people in the Southern Claw who know a lot more about magic than I do.”  He looked away.  He couldn’t bear the thought of Lorn or the White Council finding out about Shiv.  He saw nothing good coming from that.

The boat cut through the waters.  The distant call of some alien beast sliced the air apart, and
more explosions shook the distant sky. 

“Cross?” Shiv asked
again.

“Yes, Shiv?”

“I’m scared.”

He took a deep breath.  He offered her a hug, and she accepted.  He felt her tremble.

“Me, too,” he said.  “Me, too.”

The island where they landed was cold and dead.  Sharp stones protruded from the shore like broken rib bones.  The wide and stony beach led inland to patches of dense brush and steeply angled rocks. 

The black sky seemed to ripple away from the crystal moon
as the bloody teeth of dawn gnawed at the horizon.  Shells and loose stones crunched beneath the pirate vessel as it slowly came to shore. Bull and Dozer leapt out and threw mooring lines around some large rocks, and the Lith started unloading equipment onto the beach.

Cross looked
at Witch and held up his hands to ask what was happening.  She pointed inland, towards the brush and the steep hill beyond.  A faint glow stemmed from beyond the rock ridge and the night-dark trees at the top of the rise. 

“Is it a
fire?” Flint asked.

“Maybe,” Cross said.  “What do you think?”

“I think we should keep sailing,” Flint said.  “We can reach Ath in another day, tops.  We have food and water on the ship.”

“No,” Shiv said.  “You know we can
’t, Da.”

The Lith brought the mounts off the
boat and saddled them.

“We
’ll have a difficult time sailing these waters without their help,” Cross pointed out.  “And they seem pretty intent this is where we’re getting off.”

Flint didn
’t like that, and Cross didn’t blame him.  He was tempted to tell him to go, to take the ship and whatever food and weapons they needed, but he feared they wouldn’t get far. 

If you stay with me, you
’ll be in danger.  But I can’t send you on alone.

“You can w
ait with the boat,” he suggested. “I’ll go with them to see what it is they want here.”

“Are you nuts?” Flint said.  “We
’re sitting ducks out here.”  He looked at the Lith, then back at the water.  “Still…if we leave the boat out here with no one to watch it, there’s no telling what might happen.”

“Cross,” Shiv said.  “You can
’t leave us alone.”

Cross looked at Witch.  She wait
ed for him expectantly, her arms crossed and her eyes locked on his. 

“I need to go with them…” Cross started, but Shiv took his hands. 

“No, you don’t.  You need to stay with
us
.”

Cross
looked at Flint, who shrugged. 

“Shiv,” he
r father said.  “Come on, lass.  Let the man do what he has to do.”

Cross wasn
’t sure if Shiv was worried about him or if something else was going on.  There was no telling what sort of power she had.  For all he knew, she had the same prophetic abilities as the Lith.

“I
’ll be back soon,” he said.

“You don
’t know that,” she said.  Her voice was hauntingly cold.  “You don’t know anything.  You don’t know where they’re taking you, or what will happen.”

“No, I don
’t,” Cross answered.  He stood up and strapped Soulrazor/Avenger’s sheath to his back.  Flint handed him the Remington 870.  It was the same “Witness Protection” style shotgun Cross had taken from Graves years before, sawed-off and fitted with a pistol grip.  It almost could have been the same gun.  “But I have to try.”  He looked at Flint nervously, then back at Shiv.  “Is there something you need to tell me?  Something
you
know?”