Wit'ch War (v5)

  Er’ril kept his face blank. So far his plan was going perfectly. Shorkan had fallen into his trap like a blind rabbit. But Er’ril kept his hopes reined.

  The moon would soon rise, and the final act was yet to be played.

  ELENA MET WITH the others atop the deck of the Pale Stallion. Ahead, the towering cliffs of the isle of Maunsk filled the western sky. The sun had already descended past the twin peaks of the island. Under the shadow of the cliffs and mountains, it was as if twilight had already fallen. The seas became a midnight blue; the brilliant green of the island became darker with menace. Only the azure sky above promised ample time before the moon yet rose. Still, Elena hugged her arms tight over her chest. Evening approached too quickly.

  From behind, Meric stepped to the rail beside her. His eyes were pained. “I’m sorry.”

  Elena glanced away, unable to face him. “Why did you do it? Why did you call your queen’s forces here? I thought I could trust you.”

  Meric was silent for a long time. When he spoke, his voice was strained. “Back in Port Rawl, I sent a small bird from Mama Freda’s menagerie with a request for aid from my mother. I thought I was protecting you. I didn’t want you walking into the darkmages’ trap on A’loa Glen. If the island was destroyed first, I had hoped you’d finally put aside this banner of the wit’ch and end this war with the Dark Lord. Free of such a responsibility, I had thought you’d return to Stormhaven and claim your true heritage.”

  “You know I’d never do that,” she said firmly. “With the book or without it, I will continue to struggle against the evil here.”

  “Yes, I’ve too slowly come to realize that. After the trials in Shadowbrook, I had thought escape was the best recourse. But on hearing the tales of the Dre’rendi and the mer’ai, I now know that was a fool’s dream. You cannot turn your back on the evil here without losing a part of yourself, and even then the evil would still pursue you.” His voice became soft. “But that is not the only reason I knew you would not forsake this struggle.”

  She swung toward him, her voice harsher than she intended. “Then why else?”

  He raised bright eyes toward her. “When Tol’chuk and I rejoined you, I saw how much you had changed—and not just in body. It went deeper, something that struck me to the core. I finally saw the elv’in in you—saw our king in you. I knew then that you’d never forsake Alasea and that I’d forever stand at your side.”

  Meric turned away. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I should have told you. I had hoped we’d have the book and be gone before she ever arrived.” He raised his gaze to the skies again. “But with the flight of her sunhawk, our time runs short. Her warships will soon be here.”

  Elena felt her knot of anger at Meric begin to soften. “How long do we have?”

  “No more than a day.”

  Elena joined him in searching the skies. “Then it probably won’t matter. By dawn, we’ll either be off the island with the book or we’ll be dead.” She turned to Meric and touched his shoulder. “Do not despair your actions, Meric. Sometimes understanding the truth in one’s own heart comes too late.” Elena thought of Er’ril. “I know this well.”

  Meric glanced gratefully at her, his shoulders regaining some of their usual strength.

  In silent forgiveness, Elena touched his arm, then turned to study the boat. Flint and the zo’ol were involved in guiding their craft through the treacherous reefs that ringed the isle of Maunsk. Orders were shouted back and forth, and slow corrections were made to the ship’s progress.

  “El, can I talk to you a moment?” Elena turned to find her brother crossing toward her from the ship’s hatch. He bore his staff in a gloved hand.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s about Er’ril.”

  Elena fought to keep the wince from showing on her face. She had no desire to discuss the plainsman, but she could also not ignore Joach’s worries. “What about him?”

  Joach stopped beside her. He ran a hand over the thin reddish beard that now fuzzed his chin and cheeks. Elena’s heart jumped. Just then, his simple gesture keenly reminded her of their father. He too had rubbed his chin in exactly the same manner whenever he’d had hard words to speak. For the first time, Elena recognized the man in her older brother. He was no longer the boy who had run wild through the orchards with her. Now she saw their father’s stern demeanor in his green eyes. “If Er’ril lives, he has spent over a quarter moon with the darkmages.”

  “I know this,” she answered sharply.

  Joach sighed. “I’m just suggesting that, if Er’ril still lives, he may not be the man you once knew. I know how their dark magick can corrupt and bend you to their will.”

  “Er’ril will resist them,” she insisted, meaning to end this conversation. She feared Joach would renew her inner turmoil.

  But Joach persisted. “I hope you’re right, El. I really do. But, please, I only ask that if you should come upon him on the island, perhaps it’s best if you assume the worst until proven otherwise.”

  Elena stared at her brother. He was asking her to distrust Er’ril. In her mind, she knew her brother’s words were wise, but in her heart, she fought back the urge to slap Joach. Er’ril would never betray them!

  Joach seemed to sense her anger. He spoke even more softly. “Think on this, El. First, the black wyvern statue. Now Er’ril captured by the darkmages. It’s almost like my earlier dream is coming true.” He raised his staff, and small spurts of darkfire played along its surface. “Maybe it was a true weaving.”

  “We already discussed this with Flint and Moris. Why bring it up again? Are you trying to scare me?”

  Joach’s eyes grew hard. “Yes, El. I am trying to scare you.”

  Elena began to turn away, waving a hand to dismiss him.

  Joach grabbed her arm. “Listen to me,” he whispered. “I bring this to you now because . . . because . . .” He glanced around the deck to make sure no one else listened. “Because just now I was resting in my cabin and . . . and I had the dream again. The same dream! The wyvern attacking, the flash from my staff driving it off, Er’ril locking us atop the tower and coming at us with murder in his eyes.”

  Elena shook her head. “No—”

  Joach squeezed her arm hard. “At least be wary of him. That is all I ask!” He let go of her arm.

  Elena almost fell backward trying to escape her brother’s words. Before she could respond, a sharp call arose from the ship’s stern. It was Flint. He stood at the wheel and pointed forward. “The entrance to the grotto! We’re almost there! Gather your gear and be ready to disembark!”

  Elena stepped toward the ship’s prow, meaning to watch their approach, but Joach stopped her. “El?”

  She could not face him. “I know, Joach. I’ll be cautious.” Clenching her fist, she stared back at the smudge of smoke that marked the distant island of A’loa Glen. “But if Er’ril is corrupted, I will make them all pay. I will tear the island to its roots.”

  Joach backed from her vehemence.

  She ignored his distraught look. As much as it hurt, she knew Joach was right. If Meric could betray her, then why not the others? Had not Aunt Mycelle run off with Kral and the shape-shifters? Elena turned and surveyed her companions here. Who could she count on during the battle ahead? Tol’chuk stood glumly, lost in his own worries. She hardly knew Mama Freda. Even the steadfast Flint was only human; he could be tricked or controlled just as easily as Joach had been by Greshym. And what of her own brother? She glanced out the corner of her eye as Joach held the staff that had killed their parents. When would the black magick begin to taint him?

  Shaking her head, Elena turned away. She pictured Er’ril’s face and his quiet gray eyes. In her chest, a small piece of her heart died. She could no longer be the scared child who had trusted all others. In the days to come, she needed to harden her spirit.

  Elena turned to stare one last time at the smudged sky marking A’loa Glen. “I’m sorry, Er’ril.”

  JOA
CH WATCHED HIS sister walk away. He knew his words had wounded her, but Elena had needed to hear them. She needed to be cautious. Though she appeared a grown woman, Joach had suspected that a small part of her still remained his wide-eyed younger sister. But now, as Elena walked away, Joach knew that was no longer true. The child in her, her innocence, was gone. Elena was as much a woman in spirit as in form.

  Swallowing hard, Joach turned away, and for a brief moment, he regretted coming to her. But as he remembered how Greshym had once controlled him, locked him in his own skull, he knew his decision had been correct. He knew that Er’ril could be just as easily spellcast. And no matter what anyone else argued, Joach was now convinced that his dream was a true weaving, a glimpse of the future. Knowing this truth, he had owed it to his sister to warn her.

  Resolute with his decision, Joach gripped his staff and crossed to join the others by the rail. They all watched their approach to the island.

  As the ship rounded the isle of Maunsk, the cliffs opened up before them. A deepwater channel led into the heart of the island. Overhead, the ship’s sails snapped as the craft heeled to the right. They now aimed directly for the narrow waterway. A soft shudder passed through the boat as its keel scraped a reef.

  Flint called out from the stern. “Don’t worry! That’s the last of the rocks!”

  His words proved true. The Pale Stallion glided smoothly between the steep walls of the ravine. To either side, green falls of foliage draped the rock. Pink and lavender blooms lay open to the late afternoon warmth, their fragrances so thick that their sweetness could be tasted on the tongue.

  No one spoke as the boat sailed down the channel that split the two peaks of the island. The channel’s course curved gently to the left, then trailed in a long curve to the right. Finally it opened into a wide bay. As their ship drifted into the wider expanse, Flint called for the sails to be reefed. The boat soon slowed. Joach stared around. He saw no docks or beach to land the boat. In fact, the entire bay was surrounded by the same sheer cliffs as the channel. Looming over it all, the two peaks of the isle seemed to lean toward the boat.

  Frowning, Joach drifted beside the zo’ol sailor he knew. “Xin, do you know where we’re going?”

  The small man tied off a line, then straightened and shrugged. “My men and I are to stay with the boat. The little one, Tok, will keep us company.”

  “So where are we going then?”

  Xin nodded toward the far side of the bay. A long narrow waterfall cascaded down from the heights to crash in a froth of spray at the foot of the cliffs. “The old Brother says you go that way.”

  Flint called out to them. “I’ve dropped the anchor! We need everyone and their gear on deck! Now! We’ll row to shore from here.”

  Joach turned and saw the other two zo’ol freeing the tarp from an oared boat latched to the starboard side of the ship. He began to take a step away to retrieve his pack, but Xin touched his arm, stopping him.

  Xin’s green eyes seemed to shine slightly. “As a wizen, I sense the fear and worry in your heart, Joach, son of Morin’stal.” Xin raised a finger to touch the pale scar of an awakening eye on his dark forehead. “The fear arises from something your inner eye has seen.”

  Joach’s brow bunched. “My dream . . . ?”

  Ignoring him, Xin reached and touched Joach’s forehead. “Know this. Just as ordinary eyes can be fooled by illusion, so can the spirit eye of the wizen. You are young to your powers yet. Do not let them rule you.” Xin moved his finger to Joach’s chest. “You must learn to look from here, too.”

  Confused, Joach did not know how to respond. “I . . . I will try.”

  Nodding, Xin slipped out an object from within his shirt. It was the dragon’s tooth pendant Joach had gifted to him in exchange for his name. Xin clutched it in his palm. “We have shared names and hearts. Remember this. If you need me, hold the black pearl and I will know.”

  Joach frowned at his words. His hand drifted to the large smooth pearl in his pocket. Was this just native superstition of the zo’ol tribesmen, or was there truly power in their exchange of gifts? He touched the pearl and nodded to Xin. “I will remember.”

  Satisfied, Xin returned to his ropes.

  Joach hurried to obey Flint’s orders. Soon he had his pack over his shoulder and his staff in hand. He stood with the others. All were ready.

  The oared boat had been lowered and now rested in the calm waters beside the ship. A rope ladder led down to it. Tol’chuk was already in the boat, holding the ladder stable. Flint helped Mama Freda over the rail.

  In short order, the rest of them climbed down the slick rope and took their seats. Once all were aboard, Flint waved his arm; the rope ladder was pulled up. The three zo’ol and the boy Tok waved them off as Tol’chuk manned the oars near the stern. The og’re’s wide back and strong arms soon had the small boat moving quickly away from the ship.

  “There should be a narrow beach to the left of the waterfall,” Flint instructed.

  Tol’chuk grunted his acknowledgment and dug deeper with the oars. The low roar of the waterfall grew louder as they approached. Now even wisps of spray blew toward them. Joach glanced back and saw the Pale Stallion far behind. After so long aboard the small ship, it almost seemed like home. In his pocket, he clutched Xin’s black pearl; then he turned back to watch as the tiny boat angled slightly away from the waterfall.

  With only a few more strokes, the rowboat ground into the thin strand of beach. The roar of the waterfall was deafening. Communicating with hand signals, Tol’chuk climbed out into the shallows and pulled the boat higher on the beach. Joach blinked at the og’re’s sheer strength.

  With their craft beached, everyone disembarked. The furious spray from the crashing waters soaked them all to the skin.

  Flint yelled to be heard. “Follow me! Stick close!” He led them along the narrow beach of coarse sand and rock toward the waterfall. As they neared, Flint pointed.

  A gap between the cascade and the wet cliff face lay ahead. He led them there. Once near, a hollowed-out cave could be seen behind the waterfall. Flint waved them all to follow him inside.

  They were forced to walk single file as they edged between the crash of waters and the rock wall. But once the cave was reached, they could gather again. Joach glanced around. The cavern ended only a few spans back. He had expected a secret tunnel or something. “Where do we go now?” he yelled over the fall’s roar.

  Flint removed Er’ril’s small iron fist from a sealskin wrap. He raised it for all to see. “Like the Arch of the Archipelago, this is another site rich in elemental power. From here, the ward can open a path to the city.”

  Joach glanced back to the black rock of the cave.

  But Flint’s graveled voice drew his gaze back around. He was pointing to the waterfall. “We go this way! Join hands to form a linked chain!”

  Leading them, Flint grabbed the iron ward with one hand and reached the other to Elena. She began to take his hand, but he shook his head. “Skin to skin! You’ll need to take off your gloves.”

  She nodded and did so. In the gloom of the cave, Elena’s two hands seemed almost to glow a soft ruby. She took Flint’s hand, then reached for Joach.

  Encumbered with the staff, he was forced to lodge the length of wood into the straps of his pack, then take off his own gloves. Once ready, he accepted Elena’s hand. It was cold to his touch, as if he clutched the moon itself. He squeezed her palm in an attempt to reassure her. She offered him a slight smile, but it was as cold as her hand.

  Turning away, he offered his other palm to Meric. Soon the party was linked, with Tol’chuk last in line.

  Flint studied them, then nodded. “Do not break the chain until we are through! I’m not sure where on the island we will end up. It takes a master mage to wield these wards with precision. So be ready!”

  Swinging around, he lifted the iron fist and stepped toward the waterfall. As he neared, the sheet of crashing waters grew glassy. Stepping forward, Flint
drew the others after him. As he reached out with the ward, the waters became as clear as fine crystal, but the wide bay and their boat were gone. The view beyond the falls was of buildings built of white bricks and towers that stretched toward the clouds.

  It was the city of A’loa Glen!

  Flint led them through the portal as if walking through an ordinary doorway. First the old Brother passed, then Elena. Joach followed next. He felt only a slight tingling in his skin as he stepped from the cave behind the waterfall and once again set foot onto the island of A’loa Glen.

  But as Joach pierced the portal, the silent tableau of the city shattered. His ears were immediately assaulted by the screams and clashes of battle. Joach cringed from the noise. Smoke stung his nose, and the bellowing roar of dying dragons echoed all around him from the sun-scorched stones.

  In one step, he had walked into the middle of a maelstrom.

  Joach glanced behind him and saw Tol’chuk climb through the portal behind Mama Freda. The portal winked out behind them.

  They now stood in the middle of a nondescript plaza in one of the higher levels of the city. Not far above, Joach spotted the battlements and towers of his old prison, the sprawling Edifice of A’loa Glen. His heart momentarily quailed at the sight. How could they ever hope to pierce the massive keep? As he stared, something struck him as wrong. He studied it a moment, then shivered as he recognized what was missing.

  He raised an arm and pointed. “The tree!” he shouted. “The koa’kona is gone!” The dead branches of the mighty symbol of A’loa Glen normally sprouted out from the central courtyard to spread like a crown over the Edifice. But now it was gone!

  Before he could even begin to fathom this portent, a voice arose from around the corner of a crumbled building. It was high and sibilant. “We’ve been waiting a long time for you to arrive.”