Sorceress Rising (A Gargoyle and Sorceress Tale Book 2) (24 page)

Gregory held his
hands out before him, palms facing each other like he held a globe-shaped
object between them.

Cold air flowed
downward from some unknown spot above her head. A breeze picked up, growing
stronger by the second until it was kicking up debris in a circle around them.
Cross currents continued to build as silvery blue fog rose from the ground.
Lillian’s lungs burned and she released the breath she’d been holding.

Between
Gregory’s outstretched hands, a spinning vortex of pure, cold magic formed.
Brighter flares of magic twisted up through the opposing currents of air and a
small twister began to swirl down from a denser, cloud-like mass of power over
head.

A tornado?

That was to be
the mechanism of Divine justice?

Poetic justice,
too, perhaps, for Gregory had been like a tornado coming into her life:
powerful, awe-inspiring, possessing a deadly beauty, and fully willing and
capable of disrupting an orderly life.

If this was to
be her end, she wanted to say one more thing.

“I’m sorry,” she
shouted above the noise of the wind. “So sorry I made such a muddle of things.
I only ever wanted to be worthy.”

Gregory’s eyes
slid open and his expression was serene.

“I know,”
he whispered into her mind,
“And you were always worthy, my
beautiful dryad, my fierce gargoyle huntress.”

He dropped the
glowing ball of power he’d held between his hands, it fell slowly as if
gravity’s hand had no effect upon it. When it finally hit the ground, it
shattered, exploding outward in all directions.

A powerful force
knocked her from her feet and rolled her a few times until she collided with a
tree. The force flowed onward, feeling more like an ocean wave, one with a
powerful accompanying undertow than it resembled storm tossed air currents.

Lillian gasped
and shuddered before she managed to roll herself back into an upright position.
All fours was the best she could manage. She’d try for two later.

A tingling
sensation raced along her nerve endings, similar to the pins and needles of restored
circulation. Though, this was probably something far less harmless. The magic
sank beneath her skin, seeped into her bloodstream, and then deeper yet,
through muscle and into bone, until its cold tingle settled deep in the marrow.
It paused then, and Lillian took a courage-strengthening breath. Nothing more
happened for several heartbeats. She was just glancing up to see how the magic
was affecting the others when a wave of pain welled up from within her bones.

The pain stole
the strength from her limbs, and she grunted as she rolled onto her side. Her
body twisted and quaked as it began to shape shift.

The weight of
her wings grew too much for her to hold up away from her body. They might as
well have been two lumps of dead flesh for all she could move them. Then with
another body spanning shudder, her wings vanished, pulled back into her body in
one quick and extremely painful surge.

Shape shifting
hurt. It always had. But this made the first few times seem easy.

Her jaws ached
from clenching them, but the alternative was crying out in pain and that might
distract Gregory from the spell. She’d already caused enough trouble, she
wouldn’t call down more.

Besides, with
that mighty power riding him, she wasn’t sure if that was really Gregory. He
stood, head bowed and wreathed in shimmering, flame-like magic. Even over the
distance, she could feel the cold magic of the Spirit Realm flowing outward
from where he stood, feeding the spell, which was presently controlling her
change.

Her gargoyle
features vanished and left her weak and shaking in the smaller body she’d known
far longer. Though, at this exact moment, her dryad body seemed no more in her
control than her gargoyle one had been.

She continued to
shake and quiver for a good minute. Slowly her limbs regained feeling and
strength, and she sighed in relief when they moved at her command.

Blinking, she
found herself curled in a fetal position. The earth was soft under her, and its
scent was reassuring. She didn’t want to move, but forced herself back to her
hands and knees. Only then did she realize there was still magic sliding
through her, examining her. It shifted from the center of her chest upwards
until it settled in a circle around her neck. The tingling increased.

Threat or
warning?

She didn’t know
but breathed a hardy sigh of relief when the power moved on. If the power
wanted to kill her, surely it would have done that at the first touch. No, the
magic seemed more interested in studying her, which gave her no comfort
whatsoever.

The magic
continued to coil through her blood, a seemingly random examination.

She was just
acclimatizing to the chilled presence when a tendril snaked lower and touched
her womb with its insubstantial fingers. There it paused, as if it found
something of great interest.

Lillian shivered
at the power’s creeping touch, and fear re-awoke, rocketing her to new levels
of dismay.

No, please,
no.

It was just
one stupid time.

Oh, come on.
I can’t be pregnant. Besides, I’m not the Sorceress. It doesn’t matter.

The magic didn’t
shift from its quest for knowledge and continued to scan her womb, but she
didn’t sense any increased hostility.

Would she even
know if the magic was hostile? It wasn’t like it was a thinking, reasoning
being.

But Gregory was.

Presently, he
was acting as a conduit for that power. Was he aware of what it learned?

Several
heartbeats later, the magic flashed back up and gave her tattoo one final prod.
The probing search lasted longer than she liked, but after another chilled
touch, the power disappeared.

In its wake, she
was left weak-kneed and very, very cold inside, like her spirit had taken a
chill.

Slowly, her
pounding heart eased its frantic tempo and warmth returned to her body.

With a half-conscious
gesture, she reached to finger the skin of her throat. Disappointment rose
within her at the feel of the raised brand. That it was still there came as no
real surprise, for if it was that easy to get rid of, Gregory wouldn’t have
been so angry.

But she was
alive. And a quick survey showed all her injuries healed. That was something.

The gods didn’t
smite her after all. Gregory looked equally whole. As she watched, he reached
for his own brand, then he fisted his fingers and let it fall back to his side.
Maybe she wasn’t the only one with that small, naïve hope.

Turning away
before her gaze caught his, she studied the power as it continued to flow
farther out from its magical epicenter. Wherever it encountered one of the Fae,
the winds would spin and whirl until, with a little burst of magic, the
accompanying healing spell would migrate to the next nearest Fae. In counter
point, wherever the power touched upon a Riven’s body or a spot of tainted
blood, the magic would lick along it with pale blue flames until all was
consumed.

Others were
still gaining their feet after the initial surge of magic had tossed them on
their asses. Lillian’s little brother was one, and seeing him move in a stiff
and awkward manner, she hurried to his side. A soft, but otherwise happy whine
greeted her.

After giving him
a once over and examining the smooth skin where the blade had been, she
enfolded him in the best bear hug she could manage now that she was once again
a much smaller dryad.

Her eyes turned
to her father to find River already there, bending over him, checking for
injuries. That they had both survived gave Lillian some hope that she might one
day explore those family bonds to see how deep they ran, and if a relationship
was even possible. But unlike with her brother, she had no urge to go and hug
either parent.

They were strangers.
As was her brother, she supposed. But there was something very engaging about
Shadowlight, his friendly openness melted even the most resigned heart.

A shift in the
flow of magic against her skin alerted her that Gregory’s spell was winding
down. In its wake, all were healed and the bodies of the Riven had vanished.
Strange though it was, she could still see the broken underbrush, torn up
grass, and smell the scent of crushed vegetation where the individual battles
had occurred, but the blood and gore were absent. Slowly, other things seeped
into her consciousness. While the Wild Hunt still milled around Lillian and
Gregory, awaiting direction, a quick tally showed that their number had
decreased.

Killed in battle
or killed by Gregory’s magic?

“All who ran
with us were loyal. Only the dead and those too far gone to be healed are gone,
free to journey to the Spirit Realm. May they have a long, peaceful rest before
starting the journey of life once more.”

Lillian looked
around, disconcerted for another reason. She didn’t know the members of the
Wild Hunt, not personally. Though they clearly knew each other.

What if she’d
lost friends or family she’d known for years. There one minute and then gone
the next. No chance to say goodbye. Nothing of the physical left to shed tears
over, no burial for a final goodbye. Wiped clean off the earth by divine power
in the space between heartbeats.

Gregory had
called to that mighty power and he’d received an answer. She’d seen greater
shows of power from him; he’d told her all along what he was, what she used to
be: an Avatar.

And avatars
belonged to their gods. But those same gods somehow belonged to their avatars,
and couldn’t or wouldn’t deny Gregory that power, even when it was clear he had
been compromised by the brand of enslavement.

They would grant
great power in the name of the Light, but Tethys had taught her that truth,
duty, and her human moral code were not always on the same page.

What Gregory was
capable of had never been as real to her as it was in that moment of clarity.
What he was. Such a beautiful, horrifically fierce power she now commanded.
She’d never felt so tiny, or completely inadequate in her life. Somehow she had
to release him from the influence of the brand.

That barely
contained force must never belong to the Lady of Battles. Her earlier
conviction was based on more personal reasons. He was her friend, beloved
companion, the other half of her soul. She wanted to protect him out of her
love for him, their sense of duty to each other.

Those were romantic
reasons, but there was a far more deadly and far reaching reason why she
couldn’t let them fall any further into the Battle Goddess’s manipulations.

Both she and
Gregory could be the greatest threat the universe had ever encountered—because
even with the Battle Goddess’ slave collars around their Avatars’ necks, the
Divine Ones still shared their power.

Gregory’s little
experiment proved that.

“You finally
understand?” he asked as he padded over to her on all fours. “The Divine Ones
love all they create. They would not destroy the Lady of Battles even when her
war with her twin threatened to tear apart the Magic Realm. They love us no
less—in essence we were their first born. It seems they will not or cannot deny
us their power. I had expected as much, but hoped otherwise.” Gregory fell
silent as he fingered his tattoo.

Lillian fidgeted
with her meager clothing, adjusting the ties so they wouldn’t fall off her
smaller dryad frame. “I do understand why you see Tethys as a better choice
than trusting my biological parents. And I would not have used these cursed
collars knowing what I know now; however, I would have still fought the siren
and attempted to free you or died trying.”

Gregory
acknowledged her comment with a nod.

A soft swish of
long grasses in an unfelt breeze and the shifting of shadows announced when her
father joined them. “I am truly sorry for our part in your current predicament,
First One.” Her father bowed to Gregory. “I failed to find the secondary spell
hidden in the intricacies of the outer casing. My failure is a stain upon my
honor.” He tilted his muzzle toward the night sky and waited, his vulnerable
throat exposed.

Lillian saw her
mother’s looked shift from concern to terror.

Gregory huffed
out a sound of mild contempt. “Considering where you spent the last twenty or
so years of your life, I can only imagine that this most recent failure is just
one of many stains upon that honor.”

Darkness
stiffened, but held his position, waiting for the killing blow.

Then Gregory
raised a hand and patted the other gargoyle on the shoulder, surprising her
father, and everyone watching, into a group flinch. “It is not for me to judge
you. Though I can only imagine what choices you had to make to protect those
you love. Ultimately, I owe you and your dryad mate for siring my beloved.”

Her father
sighed softly. “There are a number of mistakes I am not proud to own up to, but
Lillian and Shadowlight will never belong on that long list.”