Warrior Witch: Malediction Trilogy Book Three (12 page)

“
S
tones and sky
, but they’re cocky,” Victoria muttered, kneeling next to me in the snow.

Revigny sat between two mountains, a cluster of houses and one general store, with a population that was far outnumbered by the goats they raised on the grassy southern slopes. And by my reckoning, every one of them was locked behind the invisible wall encasing the village. Goats included.

Their troll captors relaxed in a pavilion that looked like it had been plucked from the glass gardens, only this version was an illusion with the sole purpose of blocking out the brilliant sun from overhead. Two of them sat on rough wooden chairs plucked from someone’s kitchen, while a third twirled about half-naked in the snow, hands raised up to the sun.

“Do you recognize them?” I asked. That had been one of the bigger unknowns. Victoria and Vincent had an idea of which trolls the Duke had recruited to his cause, but there was no way to know who had been sent to each village. Or how much power they had.

“The woman is Comtesse Báthory,” Victoria whispered. “Don’t be fooled by her performance – she’s the only member of the peerage the King’s ever banned from owning half-bloods.”

“Why?”

“You don’t want to know. But it’s probably the reason she’s sided with Angoulême – he’s unlikely to stand in the way of her pastime. She’s not particularly lucid, but she’s powerful. Very powerful. The other two are minor lords – cousins to more important members of the aristocracy who are likely hoping a change in rule will put them in power.”

We watched them for another few minutes, then Victoria huffed out a frustrated breath, pointing a finger at Báthory. “It’s no good. They’ve been warned about you – look at the size of her footprints versus the size of her feet. She’s shielded herself against everything, not just steel.”

We’d expected that, given Revigny’s proximity to Roland’s current position, but I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of nerves. Taking out the most powerful of the trio with my spells had been the original, and far less risky, plan. Now we had to try to get rid of Báthory another way. “I suppose that leaves us with plan B.”

Victoria patted my hand. “It’ll work. And perhaps Roland will take care of her for us – he does not handle disappointment well.”

I was less concerned about that, and infinitely more concerned about the friend I was about to put at risk.

A flicker of light caught my eye, and I squinted at the opposite side of the pass. “Vincent’s in position.”

Victoria returned the signal, then said, “Time to send out the bait.” She rested her chin on her forearms, and we hunkered down to wait.

It didn’t take long. Chris emerged from the trees on horseback, the armband bearing Roland’s modified colors of black, white, and red visible even from where we watched. He stopped, waiting for the three trolls to acknowledge him. Báthory had ceased dancing the moment she’d seem him, and with a lazy hand gesture, she beckoned him.

My heart was in my throat as he trotted forward, knowing there’d be no chance for him to escape if our plan went awry. Even if she fell for the trick, she was dangerous and unpredictable, and if she decided to harm him out of hand, there was little we could do to stop her. Not without revealing we had trolls helping us.

Chris dismounted in front of the woman, bowed low, and passed her the sealed letter. She plucked it out of his hand, strode a few paces away and scanned the contents. This was the moment of reckoning.

The twins, it had turned out, were fine forgers, and it was no difficulty for them to draft a letter in Anaïs’s hand, finished off with Roland’s looping signature – the key to our backup plan. The letter requested Báthory’s presence in Triaucourt immediately for a task that Roland felt required her particular skill set. “She won’t be able to resist,” Vincent had said, signing the document with a flourish, his magical pen disappearing the moment he was done. “She’ll be cautious in her journey, of course. She’s delusional, not stupid. But given that we
want
her to reach Roland, it hardly matters.”

“But she’ll have proof,” I said, pointing at the letter. “They’ll know we’re up to something.”

Vincent shook his head. “The ink’s magic – an illusion. By the time she reaches Roland, it will be nothing more than a blank sheet of paper. She can claim it says all she wants to – they’ll think it’s another one of her delusions. And when they send someone back to the village…” He winked. “Báthory herself will start to question what she’s seen.”

“She’s smiling,” Victoria whispered pulling me back to the moment. I tensed, watching the troll roll our forged letter and tap it thoughtfully against her chin. Then in a smooth motion, she pulled up the bodice of her dress and stowed the document in her cleavage.

“Watch over the prisoners, my lords,” she called to the pair watching from their gazebo. “His Highness is desirous of my presence.”

She took several quick steps toward the path Chris had come from, then stopped, eyeing him for a long moment. “I should make you run ahead of me lest I step on something I might wish I had not.”

Chris rolled his shoulders, twisting the reins in his hands. Anyone, including the Comtesse, could see he was nervous, and I prayed she’d think his reaction was nothing more than wariness of the creature in front of him. “If that is what you wish, my lady. But I have these left to deliver,” he pulled two more letters from his coat pocket, shaking fingers dropping them to the snow. “And His Highness…” He bent down, fumbling twice before he managed to pick them up. “His Highness–”

“Yes, yes.” Báthory smirked. “You are right to be afraid, human. And brighter than most to have allied with the winning side early.”

Not waiting for Chris’s response, she sprinted toward the dense forest, magic carving a path as she made her way down to the coast. The crack and thud of falling trees echoed between the mountains, and we watched her progress until she was out of earshot. “Time to move,” Victoria said.

Holding onto the back of her coat, I followed my friend down toward the village, trusting that her brother had his illusion in place. The people watching through the walls of their magical prison backed away at our approach, but I held up a calming hand even as Victoria created a faintly glowing set of stairs overtop of the wall.

“We’re here to rescue you,” I said. “Gather everyone at the center of town.”

“They’ll see us,” one of the men exclaimed. “They told us they’d kill anyone who tried to escape before their prince arrived.”

“They won’t see.” I pointed to the oblivious trolls speaking to Chris some hundred yards away. “And if you wait for Prince Roland to arrive, the only freedom you’ll ever know is death.”

The man blanched, but it was the herding gestures my overly tall companion was making that got them moving. “Gather the animals, too,” Victoria said to the villagers. “Tell them we’ve goats to go.” She grinned and I shook my head at the pun.

“Are you sure you can do this?” I asked.

“Don’t undermine my confidence with your doubts. Go dose the people with your potion – the last thing we need is them all running about like frightened chickens.”

The villagers peppered me with questions as I ushered them to the largest building, the general store. “For courage,” I said, handing a flask topped off with magic to one of the men and watching it pass from mouth to mouth as those in terrifying circumstances were wont to do, aided by a bit of compulsion on my part for those reluctant to partake. For the children, I handed out tiny potion-laced candies that Victoria had helped me make, which they gobbled down, growing silent and still the moment the sweets hit their bellies.

Victoria leaned in the front door, and I nodded once, going to stand in front of the only window.
Ready.

“Everyone be calm,” I whispered, hearing the wind howl down the mountainside. “We’re going to get you out of here.”

In hindsight, the potion might not have been necessary, so smooth was Victoria’s magic as she lifted the tiny village off the ground, her actions hidden by her brother’s illusion. But I could see the ground moving away, and I found myself swallowing down a wave of dizziness as the building, and all those around us, rose on a platform of magic to a dozen or more feet off the ground before beginning the long journey deeper into the mountains.

I held my breath, waiting for one of the trolls to see something, or hear something, but they lounged contently in their gazebo, watching with disinterest as Chris pushed his horse through the snow, fighting to get to safety before the second part of our plan took place.

The crack was deafening, like a hundred pistols firing simultaneously, but for a second, it seemed a sound without cause. Then one of the mountain slopes began moving.

At first it appeared a single sheet of snow was sliding, then it tumbled and crumbled, clouds of white rising up into the air as it roared down with deadly force. The gazebo blinked out of sight and the trolls raced toward the opposite slope, one significantly faster than the other.

The avalanche slammed into the barrier that had surrounded the town, destroying or burying it, I couldn’t tell which, and then it overtook the slower troll. Snow burst up high as he tried to shield himself, but the earth’s might battered his efforts and he disappeared from sight. The faster troll made it partially up the opposing slope before turning. I imagined how he felt: the moment of relief when he believed he had cheated death. Then a tall figure stepped out of nothingness and clamped a hand on the smaller troll’s shoulders.

We had our prisoner.

I
t took
several hours for Victoria and me to deliver Revigny to its new location, explain the situation to the villagers, and secure their cooperation. The journey to the rallying point took far less time – all of which I spent with my eyes squeezed shut – thanks to Victoria’s fearlessness and a magic sled.

“Any luck?” I asked Chris, accepting his offer of an arm to steady my still wobbly knees.

He shook his head. “Not sure if he’s not talking because he can’t or he won’t, but Vincent hasn’t been able to get a word out of him.”

Given what had happened with Albert, I wasn’t entirely surprised, but part of me had still hoped that we might have gained at least a clue as to where Angoulême was hiding. “I want to try something.”

Along with Anushka’s grimoire, I’d packed small amounts of the herbs required to perform certain spells, and I took out several of those now, setting them on the snow next to our troll captive. He eyed them nervously, muscles flexing as he tested the magic binding him.

“I need a bit of your blood,” I said. “This will sting.” Pushing up the sleeve of his coat, I cut across his forearm, ignoring his sharp intake of breath as I held a clay bowl under the stream of blood. Picking up a handful of snow, I tossed it in where it melted instantly, then added the herbs.

“Fire?” Victoria asked.

“No.” Dipping a finger into the mixture, I marked his forehead and then my own. Then I tossed the rest of the bowl’s contents up in the air. Little droplets hung suspended like a cloud of rubies, then they began to swirl between me and the troll. I closed my eyes.

His thoughts came in little flashes. A troll woman smiling. A sword. The waterfall in Trollus.

“She’s in my mind,” the troll screamed, but I tuned him out and focused.
Roland.

The troll prince appeared, himself, but twisted, as though the troll’s mind saw him for the monster he was. “I will rule,” he screamed. “I will rule.”

Other trolls were on their knees in front of him, and one of them said, “Death to Thibault! Death to Tristan!”

Roland leapt to his feet, spittle flying from his mouth. “You do not touch my brother!”

The offending troll exploded into bloody mist, and I recoiled, unable to separate the remembered screams from the screams happening outside my shuttered eyes.
Angoulême.

The Duke appeared, cane balanced between both hands. “Those who serve our cause will be rewarded. Lands, titles, power – it will all be yours. Will you swear?”

“Yes.”

I pulled away from the thought, afraid of triggering one of the Duke’s oaths.
Where is he?

Anaïs
. Lessa appeared, dressed in her armor, arms crossed. “All contact with my father will happen through me, do you understand?”

I pressed harder.
Where is he?

Mountains flashed across my vision, their white peaks glittering in the sun.

“Cécile, stop!” Someone was shaking me, but I ignored them. I had to find where the Duke was hiding. Lives depended on it.

What are his plans?

The light of the mountainscape turned to darkness. But I could hear the Duke’s voice, “Thibault dies first, then…”

Pain lanced through my skull and I severed the connection, falling back into Victoria’s arms. “What happened?”

“He’s dead.”

“How?” I struggled forward, taking in the dead troll and Vincent sitting on the ground next to him, hair drenched with sweat and face drawn.

“Burned out his light trying to get free,” he responded. “Stones and sky, what did you do?”

“I dug through his thoughts to find Angoulême,” I said. “He’s in the mountains.” I rubbed my temples, the pain in my head fierce. “Lessa knows where he is. I think she might be the only one who does.”

No one responded, and when I lifted my face, everyone had drawn away, leaving me alone in a circle of space. “What?”

Chris twisted his horse’s reins, jaw working back and forth. “Did you learn anything else?”

“That Roland doesn’t want anyone to harm Tristan – he must want to do the deed himself,” I said, the boy’s rage briefly filling my vision. “And that Angoulême intends to go after Thibault first.”

“I suppose that’s one less troll for
us
to kill,” Victoria said, but when I turned her direction, she was staring at the snow, and I found I didn’t know how to respond. I wanted to be ruthless, to pretend that I didn’t care that I’d caused the death of the troll on the ground in front of us. But I did. Just because he was caught up in the Duke’s schemes didn’t mean he’d deserved this fate.