The Witch's Eye (43 page)

S
he knew she wouldn’t have time to deal with them all.  She ran for the crater. 

The sky went
dark as the fires died.  She sensed the break in the peaks ahead, the looming gate that led to the depths of the isle. 

She passed
through an archway of bone, and the air on the other side was frozen.  Danica stepped through curtains of shadow, into the heart of night.  She knew she would not return.

T
he edge of the crater sloped down at a sharp angle.  Setting foot on that ground was like stepping on ice, and the chill drove straight to her heart.  She started her descent.

She
hoped Ronan had made it.  She’d lost Lara and Kane and Cross, and she didn’t want to lose him, too.  Part of her wanted to go back, to fight her way through the vampires and sift through the wreckage until she found him.

No.  He
’d never want that, and you know it.  He risked everything to bring you this far.  Don’t let it be in vain.

The whispers in her mind were louder than ever, but
it wasn’t the voices of the vampires

She slid towards the core of the island.  Iron mists caged her in.  The sounds of battle faded into the distance, and the darkness grew thick.   

Blood-and-
silver light suffused the nexus of the isle like a candle in a storm.  The crater was a field of cinder.  Charred bones lay in the ashen drift.  It looked as if a dread star had fallen from the sky.

Like the crater near Wolftown
, she realized. 
Where we’d followed Cross to the ruins of Thornn.  To the Shadowmere.

Half-shattered obsidian obelisks stood like monuments. 
Skeletal vampire remains were partially encased in the pillars, their skulls broken open, their bones burned black.  Many of them looked like they were still trying to claw their way out.

The source of the light was a
curved black arch covered with bloody runes.  The structure hummed like a subtle engine.  The interior of the arch was filled with a glaze of darkness, a shimmering black surface that bubbled like oil. 

It was a gate. 

I’ve been here.  I’ve seen this before.

A dozen
Witchborn knelt before the black gate, their hands held down to their sides, their naked dark skin flecked with sigils that burned like hot coals.  The bodies of more of their kind littered the ground.  They seemed entranced, held rigid by the site of the portal, and by what floated in the air before them.

The Witch
’s Eye.  The fist-sized shard of meteoric rock hovered over the gate.  The Eye was cast from deep red stone set with black and white veins.  It pulsed with sick power that made the air heavy and slow.  A second, smaller stone orbited its larger sibling.

Danica quickly realized
the Witchborn weren’t watching the Eye.  They were watching the six-armed witch.

She was
easily seven-feet tall, and wore a tattered black cloak riddled with cuts.  Her grey skin was covered with a thin and nearly invisible coat of fur, and her otherwise beautiful face bore massive fangs.  Her muscular arms were covered with scars and strange arcane markings that throbbed with the same blood-light haze as those on the Witchborn. 

The witch stared at Danica
.  Her large crimson eyes shone like bleeding stars.  She held curved Necroblades in each of her clawed hands. 

“You came,” the w
itch said.  Danica knew that voice, the voice from her dreams, the voice she’d heard inside her head when she’d been ripped away from Eric on the other side of the Whisperlands.  “Danica,” the woman said.  “It’s nice to see you here.  Where you’re meant to be.”

Danica
’s spirit curled around her steel fist.  She held Claw ready. 

“I
’m here to destroy the Eye,” she said. 

“Why?”

“Because if I don’t, it will destroy everything else.”

“Yes,” the witch smiled.  “Yes it will.  And that
’s the point.”  She turned and regarded the floating gem.  “Funny thing.  The vampires of Tanith never imagined they were orchestrating their own doom when they crafted the Eye.”  Her voice was deep and alien, and it echoed – for every word she said, Danica heard it again, like her voice actually came from somewhere very far away. 

“You
want
the Witchborn to destroy everything?” Danica stepped closer.  Her spirit was ready to attack.  “What the hell are you?”

“I am the Black Circle,” the six-armed witch said.  “And I am the Shadow Lords.  I am born of darkness, and raised from it.  I was here and dead and gone long before you even e
xisted, long before any of this existed.” Her eyes narrowed.  “I am night.  I am truth.  I am Maloj.  And you will feel my wrath.”

The woman raised her
blades.  The Witch’s Eye flew forward.

Danica
’s spirit shielded her just in time.  A lance of burning flame crashed down, and her spirit screamed in agony.  His pain shredded through her consciousness like a blade.  Heat enveloped her body.

She fell to the ground.  Smoke churned from her clothing.  Her spirit was
so damaged he couldn’t reform. 

The Eye hovered close.  Shifting light spun
away from it.  The Witchborn rose and gathered around the six-armed witch as they turned to face Danica. 

Danica
moved fast.  Another blast of solar lightning seared the ground where she’d stood. 

The smaller Eye moved away from its larger sibling.  Danica spun Claw around in her hand.  The two gems orbited her like killer moons.

Something moved on the other side of the gate.  Whatever it was pounded against the oily surface and made it ripple.  Raw cold emanated from the void. 

She
ducked beneath a fan of flames.  The smaller eye rammed into her back and sent a cold electric shook through her body.  She screamed.

Danica
focused her mind.  Her vision narrowed.  She imagined her spirit, remembered what it was like to pull him in, to dominate him.  To lock him in the prison of her bloodsteel arm.

She did th
at now with the harmful energies wracking her body and forced them into her arcane limb, which burned hot against her flesh.  She cried out in pain. 

Everything was fading.
Someone called her name in the distance, but she couldn’t see who it was. 

The small
er eye again drew close, ready to destroy her.  Danica reached up with her golem arm and released the energies she’d captured.  Dark electricity blasted from her palm.  The gem sparked, cracked and exploded.  Blinding crimson light pushed her to her knees. 

“Dani!” the voice called again.

Cross?

“Kill her!” the witch shouted. 

Danica struggled to her feet.  The gate pulsed.  Everything twisted.

The Witch
’s Eye screamed towards her like a razored star.  Danica’s spirit fused into a solid red shield.  Claw turned to ice in her hand. 

“Danica!” Cross yelled.  “STOP!”

It was too late.  The Eye rammed against her shield and scattered her spirit, whose screams echoed into the sky.

At that same instant she sliced
through the Witch’s Eye with Claw, and the gem exploded like bloody glass.  Bolts of dark fire tore into her chest.  Danica felt her insides ripped apart as she was thrown back.  Her screams were distant, drowned in the growls of a black storm.

She
landed on her side.  She couldn’t move, couldn’t feel anything.  She tried to speak, but only a mewling sound came out.  Her steel arm was a smoking husk.  She tasted blood and metal and saw with horror that her body was covered with burns.

T
he six-armed witch was laughing. 

TWENTY-SIX

TEMPEST

Deafening bomb blasts and caustic bursts violently rocked the pod
as they made their descent.  Cross glimpsed reptilian wings and blasts of fire through the viewport.  The sky was on fire, and Flint had to bring the ship down fast.  Heat pressed in from every direction.  Shiv screamed when her hand touched the metal wall. 

Cross
sensed lost souls in the air, angry spirits immolated in night fire, but all he could do was hang on as the pod plummeted out of the sky.  Something clipped them, and his skull rattled from the impact. His chest was tight with fear.  He yelled to Shiv to hold on, but he doubted she heard him through the din.

They
hit ground, and the vehicle flipped.  His stomach lurched.  Everything spun end over end. Snow and shattered rock screamed through the broken window.  Sparks flew up where the craft scraped against stone.

T
he escape pod groaned to a halt.  Everything was suddenly quiet outside.  Folded steel pushed in from the damaged exterior, and the air smelled of electrical current.  Grim red light spilled in through the shattered viewport. 

Cross
unstrapped himself and fell forward.  The floor was a mess of dented metal and tangled wires, and the crash has bent the walls in tight and made the ruined pod even more claustrophobic.  Cross forced his way through a narrow gap to reach Shiv.  Her face was covered with grime and sweat.  He pulled her harness open and was relieved to see she was ok.

“Let
’s go,” he told her.  “Come on, honey.  We need to go.”

Flint and Grail
were both bruised and somewhat bloodied, but otherwise seemed to be all right.  The inside of the pod was filled with dark steam, and oil and fuel squirted all over the floor. 

Grail kicked the viewport
open and squeezed through, then waited with his bow ready while the rest of them followed.  They emerged onto a slope of grooved dark stone.  The pod had somehow made it through the jagged peaks and landed at the edge of the crater.  Combat raged just out of sight.

Cross crouched
low and caught his breath.  Blood had caked to the side of his face, and his arms and legs were sore.  The raw and unhealthy air tasted bitterly cold.  The ground was smelted, and they saw the skeletons of ancient creatures. 

Something about it all felt familiar. 

“What now?” Flint asked. 

Cross looked around. 
The air was thick with ebon vapor, so it was difficult to see anything more than a few yards away.  The crater wall descended straight down into darkness. 

“There,” Shiv said.  “Light.”

Cross saw it.  The silver and red glow was faint, barely a flicker in the sea of shadows.   

“Stay here,” Cross said.  He made sure Soulrazor/Avenger was tightly secured to his back, and
checked the SIG.  “You’ll be safe with the ship.”

“We
’ll be safe with
you
,” Flint said. 

“You and Shiv need to
stay here
,” Cross said firmly.  They both looked like they wanted to argue, but they didn’t.  He nodded at Grail, and pointed at Flint and Shiv.  The bowman nodded.

Cross
started down the slope, careful to watch his footing as he navigated around drifts of dark dust and piles of old bones, the remains of a forgotten age.

“Dani!”

He was too late. 

Danica was dying.  Foul energies from the Witch’s Eye devoured her arcane spirit even as it bonded to her two-handed Necroblade.  She raised the weapon to strike.

He saw the witch
, a six-armed woman with glowing red eyes. Six corrupted vampires surrounded her, a grim entourage.  Even in that vastly different form he recognized her.  He’d know her anywhere.

Azradayne.

This is where she wanted Danica to be.

“Danica!
STOP!”

He
ran as fast as he could, but he couldn’t reach her in time.  He was thirty yards away when Danica shattered the Witch’s Eye.  Black power crashed into his chest and threw him back. The wind exploded from his lungs. 

He turned onto his side, gasping for breath.  Danica was on the ground, her body smoking
with dark fumes.  Shards of broken crystal hung petrified in the air. 

Black blood ran down the front of
Azradayne’s soiled dress.  Her blades were wet: she’d slit the six Witchborn’s throats all at once.  Their skin crusted and peeled away, and the necrotic power held in their bodies twisted into the air like smoke serpents. 

The b
lack gate shook.  Faces appear in the portal, the visages of long-dead horrors with bared fangs and dark eyes filled with centuries of hate.  He sensed the vastness beyond the barrier, the emptiness.  Scintilla from a world filled with pain.