Witch Bane (27 page)

He grinned without restraint behind the mask
as she turned back to Elizabeth, readying her magic for the final
blow. As little as he cared about the fate of the resistance witch,
the woman deserving the cruelty about to be unleashed upon her,
Sebastian knew the safest time to strike was before the White
Witch’s powers manifested.

The quicksilver blade made no sound against
Shade’s borrowed sheath as he drew it—the sword, the perfect
deliverer of retribution for his mother. He spun it behind his back
and brought it about, thrusting at the witch with the whole of his
hate and fury.

If she saw the blade coming, she didn’t
react.

The point sunk deep into the White
Witch’s eye, the orb giving way with a moist
pop
as the sword slid into her brain beyond,
bursting from the back of her head. She went rigid instantly, her
face going slack as blood and fluids ran from her ruined socket.
Her arms dropped to her side, wisps of smoke trailing away from her
fingertips.

Sebastian yanked the sword free as Elizabeth
watched from below, showered in a thick, crimson and gray rain. The
slightest of smiles broke upon her blackened and scored lips,
blisters boiling over in its wake as the White Witch crumpled to
the ground without a sound. She’d died with a grim smile frozen on
her lips, her last thoughts seemingly of victory.

A howling cry exploded over the sounds of
battle that raged around them, Sebastian’s gaze shifting to a
number of soldiers who pointed at him. They screamed like furious
banshees, drawing the attention of their fellow soldiers. They knew
their master was dead, had watched her be struck down. Soon, the
Red Guard would be upon him, some semblance of order still present
among their ranks.

Sebastian glanced to Elizabeth, pulling the
mask away so she could look upon his face. “You’ve earned your
suffering, witch. I offer you no mercy for what you’ve done.” He
spit on the ground beside her. “Should Athuul grant you penance in
the hereafter, and you should see my mother, give her my love.” He
gave Elizabeth a shallow nod as the smile fell from her face.
Sebastian sheathed his sword, and without another glance, he bolted
toward the woods.

The soldiers were too far away for any real
chance at catching him, so once he was in the thick of the trees,
out of their sight, he changed directions and took pains to leave
no trail behind they could trace. He traveled for hours, putting as
much distance between him and the Red Guard as he could.

The screams of the griffins and soldiers
long left behind, he found a crevice buried by overgrown foliage,
and crawled inside. The world outside his haven dimmed to a muffled
silence as he curled up on the moist ground and felt the weight of
his emotions crash down on top of him. Alone at last, the battle
behind him, he mourned for his father.

He cried until sleep could be denied no
longer.

Thirty-Six

Emerald watched as her mother was struck
down, collapsing like an empty sack at the feet of Shade. For all
her anger, for all her disgust and fear of the woman and her
cruelty, seeing her die was like a physical blow. Emerald crumpled
to her knees, staring at the horror of it, her breath gasping from
her lungs. She clutched to her stomach as Victor set a steadying
hand on her shoulder.

“
I’m sorry, Emerald, but it truly is
for the best.”

She grabbed at his hand and he enveloped
hers in his, pulling her to her feet. He drew her close to embrace
her, but she couldn’t tear her eyes from the sight before her,
twisting about to keep it in her line of vision.

The assassin, who had so casually ended her
mother’s life, pulled away her mask. Emerald was glad for Victor’s
support, his strength keeping her from falling once more when she
realized it wasn’t Shade who had slain her mother, but the
general’s son; the warlock. She stared as he stood over her body a
moment longer, speaking to Elizabeth, before he fled, the Red Guard
at his heels, having seen what he’d done.

Though she didn’t want to believe it, she
immediately thought of what Elizabeth had said about her mother
having slain the previous White Witch, Darius’ wife; Sebastian’s
mother. A chill settled over her, and she tried to burrow into
Victor’s side to find warmth, at last tearing her eyes from the
horror. If what the resistance witch had said was true, her mother
was nothing more than a common murderer and had deserved to die as
she had; at the hands of the son of the woman she’d slain.

“
Is it true?” she asked.

“
Is what true?”

She turned to meet Victor’s gaze. “Is it
true my mother murdered the White Witch before her, the warlock’s
mother?”

He shrugged. “Only Deborah would know the
truth of it, Emerald.” He started forward toward the field,
dragging her along with him. “That no longer matters, now.
Mynistiria has moved on to a new era.”

She resisted, wanting no part of seeing her
dead mother any closer. “I—”

“
You must be seen, Emerald. By the
laws of ascension,
you
are
the new White Witch. The Guard must know they have a duty to you,
and that there is still order amidst the Council’s
representatives.”

She said nothing, her throat thick
with emotion. Emerald had never wanted
this
. Victor led her onto the field, his
bellowing voice calling out for the Red Guard to attend. Slowly
they took heed, ceasing their chase to gather about. Muttered
voices drifted through the gathered crowd, the distant sounds of
battle still sounding deep within the forest where the last of the
resistance had fled. Soon, the army had gathered. It was a sea of
red that bled into the green of the surrounding trees.

“
The White Witch is dead!” Victor
called out, his voice silencing the whispers. “As it has always
been, the daughter of the White is first in line to the throne of
Corilea, and the seat of the High Council of Mynistiria.” He paused
a moment, letting his words echo through the ranks. “I give you,
Emerald Altus, the daughter of Deborah Altus, the new White Witch.
Show your obeisance!”

As one, the whole of the army dropped to
their knees, the sound of their obedience deafening. Heads bowed,
they chanted allegiance to Emerald, their fists held in the air.
Their voices drowned out the distant battle, its sound vibrating
the ground beneath Emerald’s feet.

“
Arise, Red Guard,” Victor told them
after a few moments.

The soldiers returned to their feet with a
roar, all eyes on Emerald. Victor leaned in and whispered in her
ear to let him do what was necessary. She nodded, wanting no part
of the throne or its responsibility.

“
The Lord of the Hunt speaks for me,”
Emerald told the assembled force.

“
By word of the White Witch, take
Elizabeth Bourne into custody.” Victor pointed to the woman who lay
alongside Deborah, barely more alive than the corpse beside her.
“Treat her kindly. I want no harm to come to her for we would have
her face the consequences of her crimes against the throne.” The
soldiers complied immediately. “Collect Deborah’s body as well, so
that we might give her an honorable funeral and send her ashes to
the sky.”

“
What of Sebastian?” Emerald asked in
a whisper.

Victor smiled and spoke to the soldiers,
“Find the assassin who dared to slay our witch, and bring me his
head. Deborah would have liked, no doubt, to have seen it mounted
upon the walls of Corilea.”

The mass of soldiers roared and stormed into
the woods, those not attending to the body of her mother or to
Elizabeth. Emerald watched as the men scattered to seek out
Sebastian, only then realizing Victor had stopped them from doing
so immediately after her death. She turned to face him, meeting his
eyes.

“
You would let him escape?” she asked,
her surprise tinting her voice.

He drew closer, grinning behind his beard.
“Fate is a cruel mistress that returns only what one has amassed in
life, child. The boy has made much possible in your life…in our
lives,” he corrected, gesturing toward her stomach. “Such
kindnesses should be remembered when the consequences are due.”

She turned to look at her mother, the
soldiers having wrapped her in a crimson cloak for travel back to
Corilea. It hardly seemed real, her body unrecognizable behind the
cloth the men carted off toward the transports that waited in the
distant clearing. They carried Elizabeth as well, an armed escort
marching alongside her as though the battered witch still posed a
threat; if she ever truly did. The cries of her suffering fluttered
on the air.

Victor drew up behind Emerald. “Come, let us
return to Corilea. I would think you and the child would relish
some of the comforts left behind so long ago.” As light as a
breeze, his hand stroked her back, and was gone.

She nodded, unable to speak, the whole of
her world torn asunder and rebuilt in such a fleeting span of time.
She knew not what the future held as she stood there, so far from
the city of her birth, but she could hardly imagine greater terrors
than those she’d already faced. She turned to look at Victor,
pulling his hand to hers. If she had nothing else in the ashes of
the old world, she had him and their son. It was enough for
her.

Thirty-Seven

Lights swirled in the darkness. Sebastian
watched as glowing dots glistened before him, whirling in ever
faster circles until they collided with a brilliant flash,
coalescing into form. He squinted and looked away to let his eyes
adjust, looking back, at last, to see what the light had
become.

He saw his mother, as he’d always pictured
her, wreathed in an ethereal shimmer. Her long, dark hair flowed
around her happy face, her eyes shining like stars beneath. She
smiled down upon him and he felt the warmth of it. Sebastian could
see his own features in hers, the narrow line of her cheeks and the
gentle curve of his nose, and he wondered how much of that was the
real her, having never truly seen her beyond the moment of his
birth, and how much he imagined. Did it really matter?

To her side stood his father, Darius, and
he, too, smiled at Sebastian. The leathered lines of his face had
been replaced by smooth, tanned skin, the hands of time unwound. He
looked as he had when Sebastian was but a child; proud, regal, and
fearsome. There was a sense of vitality present Sebastian hadn’t
realized had faded, though somehow he knew it had. His father’s
face showed none of the worry Sebastian always attached to it. He
always wondered if his father regretted the choices he made.
Looking at the man’s face now, and remembering how it had been,
Sebastian began to believe he had. He had gone to his grave,
weathered and worn, and for the first time, Sebastian could
recognize how weary he truly was.

Sebastian looked upon them as their visages
shifted and danced before his eyes, their forms appearing to flow
as if a gentle breeze he could not feel whispered at them. He
reached out with a tentative hand, fearful he might scatter their
ephemeral light were he to touch them. They seemed so far away,
Sebastian unable to stand and go to their side. He felt mired to
the earth, as though tendrils of green and brown clutched to him,
keeping him from approaching.

Sebastian struggled against the restraints
as his parents smiled on, bathing him in their light. He could feel
the moist earth clinging to him, spilling over his flesh as if it
sought a way inside his very being. It was cold, a chill creeping
along his extremities at its touch.

His mother whispered something but he
couldn’t hear her words, the whitewash of silence whipping them
away before they could reach his ears. He yearned to hear her
voice, the sound of it buried in the primordial depths of his
memory, unrecognizable amidst the fog of his birth.

A great rumble split the sky and the forms
of his parents wavered under its pressure. Sebastian cried out, his
own voice lost in the tumultuous space between them. His father
gave a shallow bow, his smile growing wider as he stared intently
at Sebastian. He could feel them fading, taking their love with
them.

Sebastian’s breath caught cold in his lungs,
and he could taste the gritty earth that threatened to pull him
under. The glimmers of Darius and Alise began to dim, their visages
becoming blurred as the world beyond them brightened. They
flickered, slowly becoming translucent. Sebastian pleaded for them
to remain. They appeared as panes of glass, the light at their
backs filtering through their forms in radiant streams, reflecting
sorrow into his eyes.

He fought against the cold hands that tugged
at him, the wet air that pressed against his lips, trying to drown
him. Soon his parents would be gone, torn from him once more. He
felt his heart sputter, and heard the grinding dirge of stone upon
stone, the vault of the sepulcher drawing shut. Cold, the weight of
his loneliness was like an anchor upon his back, dragging him into
the morbid depths of his soul. He reached out one last time as the
lights of his parents broke apart, returning to their elemental
forms and scattering headlong into the void.

They were gone, and he knew he would never
see them again. Bound to the earth and kept from following the
lights, which teased him and faded away, just out of his reach,
Sebastian gave in and let the ground swallow him whole. He opened
his mouth and drew in a deep breath of the darkness that washed
over him, filling his lungs with its shadow.

If he could not go with them, he would find
his own path there.