Witch Bane (17 page)

While the terrain had cooperated and not
been too difficult, the ground steady and relatively unobstructed,
the pregnancy negated all of that. Not so far along as to be
burdened by the impending birth, the baby still inside sapped her
energy, leaving her little for her own needs. Darius had been kind
and shared his meager rations with her, but hard, salted beef was
hardly the welcome meal. Though it kept her on her feet, Emerald
had begun to believe that wasn’t a good thing. She slowed and came
to a stop, resting against the roughened bark of a tree.

“
Are you all right?” Darius asked as
he came to stand beside her, his arm hovering just behind her
should his support be needed.

She nodded. “Just tired, is all.”

“
Understandably so.” He handed her a
small waterskin, the cap already removed.

Emerald thanked him and swallowed a few
mouthfuls down. The warm, gritty water settled heavy in her
stomach. She handed the skin back with a sorry smile, trying not to
look disgusted. “Have we much further?”

Darius took a drink and shook his head,
capping the waterskin before he spoke. “No, not much.”

He held his arm out to her and she
reluctantly took it, knowing what it meant.

“
The sooner we move on, the sooner you
get to rest your weary bones in relative comfort,
child.”

She couldn’t argue his reasoning, no matter
how much she wanted to collapse against the tree and sleep until
she could keep her eyes closed no longer. With the general’s help,
she began the slow march onward.

Despite the closeness to her goal, there was
no excitement in her step. While she might be given the opportunity
to rest her body once there, there would be no such reprieve for
her troubled mind. As Deborah’s daughter, no matter her sacrifice
to find the resistance, no matter her intent, she might not be
welcomed among them. Even if they were to take her in, there would
be questions as to her loyalty, further complicated by her
connection to Victor. The resistance camp wouldn’t be the end of
her journey, but only the start of an even more complicated one.
She blew out a quiet breath, letting Darius guide her along, unsure
if she was ready for all of that.

Hours later, her bleak thoughts had moved on
to more mundane concerns. Her legs had continued their creep toward
numbness, threatening to fail every dozen steps, or so. The muscles
in her lower back had also seized at some point, becoming a pained
knot that stabbed at her continuously as if it were a biting
serpent. Worse still, her bladder thrummed. As she contemplated
giving up, Darius did it for her.

His hand suddenly tight on her arm, he
tugged her to a stop. He stepped past her, his crossbow swung up
into his hands. Emerald covered her belly with shaking hands. She
glanced about, wondering what the general had seen. It only took a
moment to realize what it was.

From the trees, a number of armed men
emerged. Emerald quickly counted twenty, but she could see the
shadows of others lurking just within the gloom of the forest. If
their intentions were hostile, there were far too many for the
general to handle alone. She reached down inside herself to touch
the core of her magic, readying it should it be needed. She hoped
not.

“
Hail,” a young man called out, his
voice casual. His hands were empty as he held them out to his
sides. He stared at Darius and his eyes narrowed. “You come again.”
The tension in his voice eased a bit. He looked to Emerald, and
then glanced toward the woods behind them. “Your companion has
changed. Where is your son?”

The general eased his hand away from the
crossbow’s trigger. He dropped the weapon so it hung from its
strap. “Devlin, right?”

The man nodded.

“
Sebastian is not with us. We
encountered the Red Witch’s army and were forced to split.” He
stepped to the side and gestured to Emerald. “This young lady seeks
sanctuary amongst your group. Where might I find
Elizabeth?”

“
I’m not certain she wishes to see
you, general.”

Darius smiled. “This isn’t about me, boy.
This young girl needs your help—Elizabeth’s help—for she carries
one of your own kind within.” He motioned to her stomach, drawing
the man’s gaze. “Is it not your goal to build an army of warlocks
to stand against the Council?”

“
It is, certainly, Darius,” a woman’s
voice answered for him.

Dressed in brown robes, the woman strolled
from the trees, coming to stand before them. Her dark hair hung
loose, drawing Emerald’s eyes to the blue that wound its way
throughout. She had heard her mother speak of her many times, the
words nothing Emerald felt the desire to repeat. This was Elizabeth
who stood before her. Emerald’s moment had come at last.

“
Greetings, Elizabeth Bourne. I am
Emerald. I have come a long way to speak with you. It is a pleasure
to make your acquaintance.” She bowed shallow.

Elizabeth nodded. “You are well mannered…for
the daughter of my enemy.” The resistance men drew closer in a
rush, weapons held before them.

Emerald’s eyes went wide, and without
conscious thought, she reached for her power once more. Elizabeth
knew who she was. Darius set a warning hand on her shoulder, the
reek of brimstone subtle in the air. It was clear from his eyes
that he had known, as well. She cursed her stupidity.

Elizabeth raised her hands. “Be calm, child.
I have no quarrel with you, lest you come at the whims of your
mother.” She raised an eyebrow.

Her heart pounding, Emerald shook her head,
letting her magic fade with uncertain reluctance.

“
Good, then we have taken the first
step toward understanding.” A soft smile broke across her lips.
“Before I invite you into my camp, however, I would know why you
are here, seeking comfort from me when you have the whole of
Corilea at your beck and call.”

Emerald swallowed hard, clearing her throat.
“Though I am born of the line of Altus, I have no illusions that my
offspring—a boy—would bring much joy to my mother.” She pulled her
arms away from her stomach to expose the swell of the child
within.

Elizabeth gave an imploring look, and
Emerald waved her forward. The woman drew close and bent forward,
setting a gentle hand upon Emerald’s belly. Though she couldn’t be
certain, Emerald thought she felt the baby jump at the woman’s
touch. Elizabeth smiled, easing her hand away. Emerald’s stomach
tingled where her fingers had just been, phantom tickles dancing
upon her flesh.

“
A boy, for certain, and seemingly
possessed of power, as well.” She straightened, her smile having
grown broader. “No, Emerald, I can’t imagine your mother would be
pleased to learn you carry a warlock within you. I presume she does
not even know you are pregnant?”

“
She knows only that I am
gone.”

“
Then I must assume she would not
immediately suspect you would be here, with me.” Elizabeth moved to
her side and draped an arm about Emerald’s shoulder. “You are
welcome among us, Emerald, rebel daughter of the line of Altus.”
She drew her forward. “Come, you must be weary.”

Emerald breathed a sigh of relief and let
the woman lead her off. Though she knew well enough the subject of
her lineage would come up again, she was grateful to not have been
killed on sight. No doubt Elizabeth had recognized her value to the
resistance, as Victor had promised she would. Even were she not to
become a true part of their group, the fact that she could be used
as leverage against her mother was sufficient enough of a lure that
Elizabeth would keep her around. While it wasn’t the most certain
of plans, she could rest assured Elizabeth would keep her safe, at
least until after her son was born. It gave her and Victor time to
find an alternative, should it be needed.

As they moved through the woods, Elizabeth
peered at Emerald from the corner of her eyes. “What about the
father? Should I worry that he will come to rescue the mother of
his child from the horrible, resistance scum?”

Emerald shook her head without hesitation,
realizing perhaps she’d done so too quickly. “No. He will not bring
the Red Guard to your door, I assure you. He wants only what I
want, for our baby to born without fear of the Council.”

“
Good. I would hate for anything to
happen to you…or your child.”

The threat was clear. Before Emerald could
say anything more, Darius stepped alongside her and gently tugged
her from the woman’s arms.

“
Now is not the time to play politics
with the child, Elizabeth. There will be plenty of opportunity for
that once she has rested and been fed. She has come a long way,
with very little to help her along. Despite what she’s faced to get
here, she never once called upon her magic to defend herself, until
you forced it on her. While I know not what resides within her
heart, she has shown me nothing to think she is acting as an agent
of the Council, or her mother.”

Elizabeth stepped away, her hands raised.
“Forgive me, both of you, but I have not survived this long against
by letting just anyone traipse into my confidence, let alone the
child of my enemy. I must be certain of your intent, Emerald. Your
surname is one that summons fear.”

“
I understand your mistrust,” Emerald
told her. “I am who I am, though by no choice of my own. What I
am
not,
is my mother. I have
no desire to live forever at the cost of children’s lives, nor
would I relish having the blood on my hands that informing on your
presence would surely bring.” She drew in a sharp breath. “I also
did not come to be used as a weapon against my mother, though I
know I have little control over that. I am here for no reason other
than to save the life of my child, and to give him a chance at life
he would never be granted had I remained in Corilea.”

“
Fair enough, child.” Elizabeth
grinned. “You are brave,
and
wise, for your age. I will grant your wish for sanctuary, and
perform the nullification ritual so you may birth your child
without fear of your power bringing it harm. We will discuss the
future at another time; when you are more rested.” She cast a
sideways glance at the general.

Emerald thanked her, fighting back the tears
that moistened her eyes. She could only hope the witch would be
true to her word, but she had worried long enough. She was here,
amongst the resistance now. There was no turning back.

Twenty

His thoughts a muddled fugue, Sebastian
needed to rest. After finding a dense covering of foliage, which
circled about a tree, he eased himself down at the base of it,
wincing as the wound at his ribs complained. A sigh slipped from
his mouth as he settled, the pressure relieved somewhat. Though his
magic would eventually work to repair the damage, its natural
inclination to heal its vessel, the wound was too severe for it to
be quick. Since healing was too subtle a skill for his father to
understand, Sebastian in turn hadn’t learned its trick. He doubted
he ever would, no matter how useful it might be…or might have been,
as he had no certainty of a future, continuing to bleed as he
did.

The tree solid behind him, he leaned against
it and let his head loll back, the bark scraping at his scalp. He
didn’t care. All of the adrenaline he’d burned as he fled the Red
Guard and fought the witch had drained away, leaving him hollow.
His eyes blinked, the lids feeling as though they were being pulled
down by anchors. If he didn’t get up and start moving again, he
would fall asleep. With the Red Guard about, he figured he would
never wake up.

He didn’t really care.

He stared at the bushes, which encircled
him, his eyes tracing the veins of the leaves in their endless
loops. His eyelids closed, for just a moment, snapping open as his
head drooped. He blinked a few times more, the leaves a blur,
before it all went black.

~

Sebastian’s head popped up, his eyes
springing open as distorted words lingered in his ears. His mind
scrambled to wake. Something in the voices had reached into his
sleep-addled skull and rung a warning bell. Though his thoughts
were only just beginning to clear, his senses reaching out to
explore his waking world, his hand had already moved to the hilt of
his sword.

He listened and heard the voices again,
seeming to draw closer. A muffled clatter followed along. His eyes
darted about, assuring him that his hiding place was out of the
line of sight of where he determined the voices were coming from.
He waited as they grew louder, realizing why they had been so hard
to understand. It wasn’t that he hadn’t understood the words, it
was that he just hadn’t heard them clearly. The voices spoke in
hushed tones, only the silence of the woods carrying them to his
ears.

He focused harder, pinpointing the speakers’
position amongst the trees. They had come to a stop a short
distance away.

“
You carry the damn thing, then,” the
first voice said.

“
You’re the one who wanted it. I just
want you to be quiet. You’re like a herd of bulls stomping through
the trees with that bag on your back,” the second voice complained,
the sound like stones rubbed together.

Even in his weary and injured state,
Sebastian recognized the second speaker. Far quieter than either of
the two men were, and using their argument to help cover any noise
he might make, Sebastian inched up to his feet and peered through
the shrubs. He bit back a growl when he realized he was right.
He
had
recognized the voice.
There past the trees, white streaks in the man’s hair making
identification simple, stood Jonas.