Wit'ch Storm

  She studied the woman. The demoness lay wrapped in shadows, her pale skin roiling and flowing with inky blackness while ebony flames of darkfire danced across her skin.

  Yet that was not all Elena saw. With the trace of blood magick still tinting her vision, Elena could spy deeper within the demoness. Buried in the woman’s chest, a tiny white flame flickered. Already this night, Elena had seen such flames near the hearts of her two friends, Meric and Kral, and recognized these tiny blooms of energy.

  It was elemental magick!

  Vira’ni—unknown perhaps even to herself—was an elemental! Of what forces, Elena could not fathom. But the small white flame was not alone in the woman’s chest. Around this tiny flicker, a maelstrom of black magicks roiled, drawing sustenance from this sweet flame just as the flames of darkfire dancing on Vira’ni’s skin drew energies from the firelight and moonshine.

  This roiling force made Elena’s stomach sicken and set her heart to pounding. Black energies seemed to fill Vira’ni’s entire body, from the tip of each finger down to each toe. How could Elena ever think of defeating this creature? She backed another step. If only she could keep the woman distracted until Er’ril came to her rescue. Maybe the two of them together could . . .

  Vira’ni spoke from within her shadows, startling Elena. “I think I’m done herding you, little lamb. I’ve got you where I want you.”

  Herding her? The words made Elena’s heart grow cold. What did she mean?

  Vira’ni waved her arm, and darkfire blazed forth from the woman’s fingertips. Elena winced and raised her crackling fist like a shield, but the assault was not directed at her. Black flames arced forth from Vira’ni’s hand to dance across the corpses around her, igniting them. The fire’s touch upon their blackened flesh was like the touch of life upon a seed. The swollen bellies of the dead hunters burst wide, releasing a swarm of black scorpions into the meadow. Some scuttled in the mud toward her, while others were winged and took flight in tiny black clouds.

  One scorpion, with its stinger raised, scrambled toward her toes. Elena waved a hand at it as if warding it away. A drop of blood flew from her fingertip and struck its armored back. The scorpion blew apart into gray mist and vanished. Elena stared, wide eyed, for a heartbeat. Sweet Mother, her blood could kill!

  She danced back from the approaching army of scorpions.

  Unfortunately this put her closer to Vira’ni. “See, the Horde doesn’t want you to leave either,” the woman said gleefully.

  Elena ignored her, an idea forming in her head. She clamped her left hand around her right wrist and squeezed. Blood from her wounded palm bled faster, dripping down a single finger. Elena spun in a slow circle, seeding the ground with fine drops of her blood, creating a circle around her.

  “What are you doing, child?” Vira’ni had stepped closer and reached a hand toward Elena. Where the woman’s fingers crossed the ring of blood, her nails began to smoke. Vira’ni yanked her hand away and rubbed at her fingers. “Now that wasn’t very nice.”

  Scorpions swarmed toward Elena from all directions, both on the ground and in the air. The night was thick with their buzzing wings and chattering claws. But whenever the poisonous beasts reached her barrier, they vanished in puffs of mist. Soon, a thickening gray fog began to build around her from the number of vanquished scorpions.

  Elena cringed within her small island. How long would her power keep them at bay?

  “Now where did you learn to form a mage ring?” Vira’ni asked, her voice only mildly irritated. She waved a hand and halted the assault of scorpions. The beasts stopped their approach, waving their claws and slashing their tails in agitation. A writhing sea of armored scale and stingers surrounded her, only a bootstep from her toes. “What a nuisance,” Vira’ni said sourly. Scorpions clambered over the woman’s bare feet, and a few winged ones landed in her hair. She kept plucking them out.

  “You . . . you don’t know half my power,” Elena boasted. She raised her hand and pointed it at Vira’ni. It was with some small satisfaction that Elena saw Vira’ni take a step back.

  Then the demoness seemed to collect herself and pushed a strand of black hair away from her face. “Perhaps you’re right, but within your ring, you’re trapped. If you unleash your magicks, you’ll break the seal.” She shrugged. “So right now, I can’t get to you, and you can’t get to me. But with sunrise, the spell will break, and my Horde will be waiting.” She waggled a few fingers at Elena. “I guess I’ll leave you to their care. Besides, I’d best check on your friends and make sure they’re all comfortable. I wouldn’t want to be known as a poor host.”

  Elena trembled where she stood. Her knees felt as if they might give out at any moment. What was she to do? She watched Vira’ni swing away from her and step casually through the sea of scorpions. Elena clenched her fists. Where was Er’ril?

  ER’RIL SWUNG HIS iron fist, using the full strength of his phantom arm, and smashed it into the leering she-demon’s face. Her head bounced back, and the force of the blow shoved her an arm’s length away.

  Her wings snapped angrily at the air. “That hurt!” she said, but she seemed otherwise unharmed by the massive blow. The dark magicks of the skal’tum protected even this mixed-blood creature.

  Kral stepped up next. “You think that hurt!” He swung his ax in a mighty arc toward her neck, but she was quick as a snake and darted back from his blow. Kral barely managed to catch his balance to avoid the parrying swipe of her clawed hand. He danced back from her.

  They again stood staring across a narrow space at each other. Meric and Mogweed had retreated a few paces farther back, leaving the fight to Er’ril and Kral.

  “Any ideas?” Kral hissed at Er’ril.

  “I don’t know. She’s the first of her kind.”

  “I just need one good strike,” Kral said. “My blade is still tainted with the blood of the skal’tum from last autumn. It’ll penetrate her dark protections.”

  “Yes . . . but can you do it? She’s smaller than one of her full-blooded brethren, but she’s just as tough and much faster.”

  “If we attack together—you go in low and I’ll go in high.”

  The creature laughed sibilantly at them. “ ‘You go in low and I’ll go in high,’ ” she mimicked them. “Besidesss toughness, I also have the hearing of one of my ‘full-blooded brethren.’ ” She cackled again at them and tossed back her hair.

  Even this small gesture reminded Er’ril of her birthmother. How much else of Vira’ni was in this monstrous being? “You may be half skal’tum,” he said, pleading to that part of her that might be Vira’ni, “but you are also half human. We don’t need to fight.”

  “Who sssaid you had to fight? I’m not a cat. I’d prefer if I didn’t have to play with my meal first. You could just stand there.”

  With a snap of wing, she leapt at them.

  The attack was so sudden Er’ril could only manage a glancing punch to the demon’s shoulder; still, it was a lucky blow. The strike sent her spinning on one clawed foot. Er’ril ducked under her wing as Kral struck out with his ax. While rolling to the side, Er’ril saw the iron blade strike home, a clean blow to the side of her head. But Kral’s ax bounced harmlessly from the beast’s cheek without even raising a bruise. The rebounding ax tumbled from Kral’s startled hands. The mountain man tripped backward in a hurried retreat.

  Fortunately, the force of the blow had knocked the she-demon to a knee, so she was unable to immediately attack. Er’ril helped Kral to his feet. The ax now lay at the demon’s heels.

  She rubbed her jaw and turned poisonous eyes toward them. “You were right, mountain man, that does hurt more.”

  “Why . . . How . . . ?” Kral stammered, obviously struck dumb at the lack of damage from his blow.

  “Didn’t you know the rulesss?” she said sadly. “I’m a newborn.”

  Er’ril groaned. He suddenly knew why the ax had failed to bite. They were in horrible trouble.

  “What does she mean???
? Kral asked.

  “I didn’t think . . . It’s been so long.”

  “What?”

  “Tell him,” the she-demon hissed, pushing back to her feet. “He should know what he facesss.”

  Er’ril pulled Kral farther back. “When the skal’tum are newborns, they’re gifted with a thicker layer of dark magicks. It’s to better protect their young.”

  “Then how do we harm it?”

  “We can’t. Not even sunlight will weaken its protection. Only after a newborn kills its first prey, thus proving its strength, will its dark magicks become vulnerable.” Er’ril nodded toward the she-demon. “She must feed before she can be harmed. And I can think of only one way to do this.”

  “How?”

  Er’ril darted a glance over his shoulder toward Meric and Mogweed, then faced Kral with worried eyes. “One of us will have to sacrifice ourselves to her.”

  10

  “WAIT,” ELENA CALLED to Vira’ni’s back.

  The naked woman stopped her casual stroll through the sea of scorpions and turned back toward Elena, grinding one of her creatures under her heel as she swung around. “What is it, child? I’ve work to do.”

  Elena’s mind scrambled for some way to delay Vira’ni. Er’ril and the others could not have escaped yet, or the plainsman would be here by now. She must earn them more time. Ignoring the sea of scorpions at her toes, she studied the maelstrom of black energies seething and surging within the body of the demoness. Her own fist crackled with only the mildest tempest of blue coldfire, a mere summer squall compared to the raging storm within Vira’ni.

  Elena’s eyes suddenly narrowed in suspicion. How was it that Vira’ni had such power? From the way all the others had talked, Elena had thought herself the only female to wield magicks in ages. How did it come to be that a woman now stood before her whose power equaled, if not surpassed, her own?

  Elena remembered a lesson from her father’s teachings of swordplay to Joach: Even the strongest opponent has a weak spot.

  But where was Vira’ni’s weakness? The woman seemed steeped in powerful magicks. Yet how could that be? If Vira’ni was not also a wit’ch, what kept the magick inside her?

  Elena’s eyes suddenly flew wide as a thought occurred to her. Near the woman’s heart, Elena still caught glimpses of the small silver flame buried within the surging storm of dark magicks. Could that be the answer? A plan formed in Elena’s mind. With a tremble, she glanced to her toes and the scorpions surrounding her. If she was wrong, she would pay with her life.

  “What is it?” Vira’ni repeated. She was about to leave again.

  Elena spoke clearly, trying to fill her voice with confidence. She had to draw the demoness nearer. “I see a secret inside you. Deep inside you, a flame of power.”

  One of Vira’ni’s eyes crinkled in suspicion. “Yes, it’s the magicks the Black Heart bestowed upon me.”

  “No, that black fire is only a parasite upon your own true power, sapping that which you were born with.”

  “I don’t know what you are talking about. This is nonsense.” Yet Vira’ni had not turned away in disgust. Instead, intrigued by Elena’s words, she took a step closer.

  Elena continued, keeping the woman interested. “You’re an elemental. Your spirit is bound to the land.”

  “What are you prattling about, child? I have no magickal gift.”

  Elena swallowed hard. So Vira’ni was unaware of her own nature. How was Elena to get her to believe? She took a different course. “What about your mother or father? Did they ever show the gift of land magicks?”

  Vira’ni waved the question away and began to turn.

  “No, think about it. Did either one show any signs? Any strange talents?” Elena could not keep traces of desperation from her voice.

  Vira’ni hesitated, then spoke in a cold voice. “I don’t know. My mother died when I was young, but my father often talked of how she could sing the crabs and lobsters into our traps . . . even the ironcrabs of the deep that could tear a man’s arm off. But what does any of that matter?”

  “It proves your mother had the gift, so you must have it, too. It is in your blood.”

  “Nonsense.”

  Elena had to persuade her to try to use her power, to wake her blood for a moment. “Look inside. Remember the sea . . . Remember the sound of waves on rock, the taste of salt in the air—and look!”

  Vira’ni glanced suspiciously at Elena, but the small silver flame seemed to grow slightly brighter.

  “At least open your heart to the possibility!”

  “I . . . I . . .” Deep within the shell that was Vira’ni, the elemental fire burned fiercer as her blood sought to remember its birthright. Vira’ni took a step closer. “I think . . .”

  The silvery flame flared to a sharp incandescence, momentarily beating back the black fires within the demoness.

  Tears appeared in Vira’ni’s eyes. She took another step closer, now only an arm’s length from Elena. She seemed weak on her legs. “I sense it now. So clear! So beautiful.” A profound sadness entered her voice, thick with tears. “I remember!”

  For a moment, Elena saw a glimpse of the woman buried within the black magicks. But she could wait no longer. The black magicks of the Dark Lord already churned hungrily and would not be kept in check by the flare of silver flame for longer than a few heartbeats.

  Opening her right fist fully for the first time, Elena struck out. She reached toward Vira’ni and felt a jolt of pain as her hand passed over the circle of blood, piercing her protective mage ring. Then her splayed fingers touched Vira’ni’s naked skin. Not waiting even a breath, Elena willed her power to flow into the woman’s chest.

  Streams of magick wound from each fingertip into the demoness. Elena studied her magick’s path, and with the aid of her enhanced vision, discovered she had better control over the flows and weaves of her power. Reaching toward the woman’s heart, the edges of Elena’s magick were consumed by spats of black fire. Wit’chfire died quickly when confronted by the might of the Dark Lord’s dire power. Still, there was a chance. If only the path to the silver flame could stay open a moment longer . . .

  She thrust deeper with her magicks.

  “What are you . . . ?” Vira’ni was awakening to the assault.

  The black magicks began to collapse back toward the silver flame. No, just a moment longer. Elena’s trace of magick was but an ember before a raging firestorm, but there was no retreating. She forced her fingers of magick toward the fading silver flame near Vira’ni’s heart. If she could join her magick to Vira’ni’s, get the small elemental flame to flare bright enough, perhaps the silver fire could drive off the black. She lunged and sent her magick into the elemental flame, stoking the fire with her own.

  Her power flowed, and like oil thrown on fire, the silver flame flared into a raging storm.

  The black energies fled from the fierce light.

  Elena allowed herself a moment of hope. It was working!

  “Don’t . . .” Vira’ni’s voice was weak and trembling. Elena stared up at the woman’s eyes. They were now so clear and lucid that they appeared almost a different color. Tears welled in those eyes. “It hurts . . . Don’t make me remember who I am.”

  “You must,” Elena said. The flame in the woman wavered with her words. Elena fed more of her wit’chfire into the blaze. “Fight it!”

  Panic widened Vira’ni’s eyes. “Stop! You can’t defeat him this way. You don’t understand what you’re doing.” Like an army massing, the black magicks grew thicker at the edges of the silver flame. The energies now crackled wildly within the small woman’s body. “You’re making him stronger in me!”

  Elena hesitated. She had only the smallest bit of magick left.

  “You don’t understand!” The woman now howled. “He feeds on me!”

  As Elena watched, the black energies swelled, drawing substance from the stoked flame.

  Understanding suddenly dawned in Elena. Sweet Mother, it
was feeding on Vira’ni’s elemental power. Her efforts had only succeeded in strengthening the black magick, giving it fuel for its fire. The silver flame faded, its energies drawn into the darkness.

  Once again, a mad gleam crept into Vira’ni’s eyes. But before she was overwhelmed, the woman’s hand reached up and grabbed Elena’s, pressing it firmly to her cold flesh. “It’s not too late!” Vira’ni moaned.

  “What?” Elena cried. “I don’t understand!”

  Then it was too late. Elena could see the other’s eyes go cold, her expression harden to granite. The grip on Elena’s wrist spasmed tighter. The woman was gone—and the demoness was back.

  ER’RIL KEPT HIS eyes fixed upon Vira’ni’s spawn, reluctant to face the others. The she-demon grinned harshly at him, wings spread wide, eyes aglow with hunger. She seemed to relish the pain of his decision.

  Er’ril ground his teeth, his jaw aching.

  If there was to be any hope of harming the creature, one of them must die first. Only death could wear thin her dark protections. But who would volunteer to be her first kill?

  If not for the fact that he alone knew the true path to A’loa Glen, Er’ril would not hesitate. He had lived more than his share of winters. But as guardian to the girl and the only one capable of unlocking the Blood Diary, he could not sacrifice himself. And worst of all, he had to ask someone else to take his place.

  Kral spoke beside him. “Take my ax, Er’ril.”

  Meric had crossed to near the mountain man’s shoulder and pushed the ax back toward Kral. “No, ’tis your tainted blade that can kill her. I’m too weak to fight this night, while you’re still strong. The blood of my lost king must be preserved, even if it means my death.”

  Mogweed huddled in their shadows. “The elv’in speaks wisely,” he muttered.

  The she-demon cackled at them. “If you mice are done with your chattering, perhapsss I should make the choice for you.”

  Time had run out. Er’ril could think of no words to argue against Meric’s statement. He glanced at the silver-haired elv’in. Meric’s blue eyes were sharp with purpose. Er’ril regretted all the hard words the two had shared. It was clear the elv’in cared as much for Elena’s safety as Er’ril did, even if it was for different reasons. Er’ril stared at the large bruise that marred Meric’s left cheek, proof already of his brave heart. Now Meric stood ready to show the full depth of his resolve and spirit.