Witch Bane (26 page)

Thirty-Three

His breath loud in his ears, Sebastian
crouched in the arms of a great evergreen, carefully setting his
wrapped bundle in its cradle of branches. He looked down upon what
would soon be a battlefield. Without rest, he’d run along the path
the resistance had taken and was not surprised to find they hadn’t
traveled far before they’d run into the White Witch and her army.
It was clearly the trouble the Lord had somehow sensed before he
disengaged.

The White Witch stood at the head of her
forces, challenging Elizabeth, who held Emerald before her.
Sebastian growled as he watched, sickened that the resistance witch
would stoop so low as to harm a pregnant girl, regardless of her
lineage. Again, he was reminded of why his father had chosen to
hide them from the rest of humanity, for there was so little
humanity left.

The Red Guard inched forward only to make
Elizabeth more frantic. He could see in her posture, in the way she
drew up behind Emerald that she was close to the point of doing
something drastic. The White witch didn’t look much more composed.
She glared at Elizabeth, speaking to her, but Sebastian couldn’t
hear, his perch too far away. Emerald squirmed in the witch’s hold,
and clutched at her stomach, rubbing it with fierceness. He could
only imagine what she was thinking, trapped between her mother and
the woman she thought would help her bring her son safely into the
world. Sebastian watched as the young girl kept glancing off to her
right, clearly attempting to be surreptitious, succeeding only
because all eyes were on the two witches. Judging by the reaction
of the man who stood alongside, she was trying to get him to help,
but he didn’t look willing. Sebastian sighed, wondering what he
could do without getting both of them killed in the process.

He had no more time to think about it. The
White Witch must have reached her limit. She jabbed a finger at
Elizabeth and screamed. Though he couldn’t make out the words, they
sounded harsh, that thought reinforced by her forceful posturing.
Sebastian held his breath, hoping an opportunity would show itself
that would allow him to pull Emerald to safety.

She took matters into her own hands. Almost
quicker than Sebastian could follow, Emerald grabbed Elizabeth’s
hand and shoved it away, all while elbowing the women in the
stomach. The girl broke free as the witch staggered, but Emerald
stumbled and fell only a few feet before the resistance witch.
Sebastian could see the terror in her eyes as Elizabeth raised her
hand and let loose a wave of fire. Emerald was engulfed before
Sebastian could leave the tree, his limbs rigid as he clutched to
the branches, bile burning in his stomach.

The White Witch moved away from the roaring
flames, the Red Guard around her doing the same. The resistance men
fell back as Elizabeth continued her assault for a moment longer
before finally withdrawing her power. Black smoke rose from the
blackened crater where Emerald had sat. Sebastian expected to see
nothing but ash, Elizabeth added to his list of enemies.

To his surprise, a hulking shape stood with
his back to Elizabeth. Wafts of smoke rose up from his seared back,
the remnants of his brigandine armor hung in fiery tatters from his
shoulders. The sigils upon his flesh shimmered with a brilliant
white glow as he straightened, a cowering bundle wrapped
protectively in his massive arms. He spun about as the witches and
soldiers spied him, a cacophony of noise rising up when he ran for
the woods. He was in the trees before they could do anything more
than bluster, the leaves fluttering in his wake.

Even charred with soot and ash, his armor
nearly melted away, Sebastian recognized the Lord. In his arms was
Emerald. Though Sebastian could not see her face, pressed as it was
against the behemoth, he saw no evidence the fire had reached her.
The Lord had protected the mother and his child.

Sebastian settled on his branch as the world
before him erupted with sound. He owed the Lord death, and promised
to deliver it, but now was not the time. Victor had saved Emerald
and would keep her and the baby safe from the chaos exploding
below. That allowed Sebastian to focus on the task at hand. Once
the White Witch was dead, he could worry about how to deal with the
Lord without harming Emerald.

The Red Guard surged forward, spilling into
the ranks of the resistance. Steel clashed and men screamed.
Sebastian felt his blood race in his veins as he watched the battle
unfold. For all their dedication to their cause, the resistance
crumpled almost immediately.

Sebastian’s eyes caught the glimmer of magic
as the White Witch engaged Elizabeth, the resistance witch
staggering back as she defended against the onslaught. She appeared
unprepared for the fury of the attack. Sebastian didn’t believe she
would last long, though he was glad to see she hadn’t surrendered
and gone to the fire without a fight. The longer their battle went
on, the more worn down the victor would be. Sebastian would need
every advantage he could acquire.

His opportunity was at hand. Sebastian
collected his bundle and clambered down the tree to the cover of
the foliage below. If ever the time was to be right for what he
must do, this was it.

Thirty-Four

Deborah shouted with unrestrained glee
as she cast her magic at Elizabeth. Emerald had broken free of the
witch’s grasp and Victor had pulled her from danger, freeing
Deborah to act. She hadn’t truly wanted to hurt her child, but
she
had
hoped Elizabeth would
force her hand, and she could end the problem of both of them in
one fell swoop. Mynistiria would rally behind her at the loss of a
child.

She knew she would have to deal with Emerald
once the resistance had been crushed, and had thought it best the
girl die at Elizabeth’s hands rather than put her through the
torment of taking her child away. That opportunity had passed,
however. Now all that was left was to slay Elizabeth and make an
example of her. She’d looked forward to this for over nineteen
years, and now that the chance had fallen into her lap, she would
take full advantage of it.

She pressed forward, hurling fire at the
other witch, alternating her attacks between fiery spheres and jets
of flame. Elizabeth‘s defenses held, but just barely. Deborah could
feel the woman’s shield crumbling with every blow, could see the
strain etched upon the woman’s lined face. Her army pressed the
resistance forces back, keeping the enemy from her flanks so she
could concentrate on killing the woman.

“
You spent years in the woods, your
powers atrophying without practical use. This is what’s become of
your dreams, Elizabeth. Your pathetic resistance crumbles around
you, your followers meeting the sword. Hold on strong for just a
few moments more, witch, and perhaps you’ll get to witness their
demise before yours comes to pass.”

Elizabeth continued her efforts to reflect
Deborah’s attack, her skin turning red in patches where bursts of
magic slipped past. “Enjoy your moment, Deborah, but there are
others who would see you laid low. General Darius and Alise’s son
still come for you. My death will not stop them.”

“
You are a greater fool than I
imagined, woman. As we speak, your saviors are beset upon by
Gracelin, Shade, and a host of Red Guard. They will not survive to
see the morning sun, for all their plotting.” She laughed. “All of
your plans are undone.”

Elizabeth fell back, and Deborah laughed
even harder at the uncertainty reflected upon her face. The White
Witch pressed forward with vicious intent, willing her magic to
greater effect. She strode across the battlefield as the other
witch slowly withdrew, hunched in terror behind her pitiful,
failing defenses. Deborah knew the woman didn’t dare fight back for
fear of lowering her shield even the slightest of bits. Were just
one blow to strike true, Elizabeth would be done for. That time
would be soon.

Deborah drew closer, burning spheres leaping
from her left hand as she strafed Elizabeth’s shield with gouts of
leaping fire, from the right. Forced to concentrate fully on
survival, Elizabeth had fallen to her knees and curled up into a
ball to project the whole of her will into her power. It wouldn’t
be enough. Deborah could feel the woman’s resolve cracking.

Then she was through.

With the rumble of thunder, Deborah’s magic
tore through the last of Elizabeth’s defenses. The resistance witch
screamed as tongues of flame lapped at her unprotected skin, the
impact of a fiery bolt sending her tumbling back along the field.
Smoke and the scent of burnt flesh wafted in her wake.

Deborah let her power fade and walked
casually toward her fallen foe. The woman squirmed on the ground,
soft whimpers escaping her charred lips. She lay with her shriveled
arms pulled to her chest, the scorched remains of her fingers
twitching madly without control. The White Witch came to stand over
her, staring down onto the once beautiful witch’s face, now covered
in blackened flesh and pustulant blisters. They leaked yellowish
ooze, which ran in thick rivulets down her cheeks. Her brown eyes
swam with tears and misery, the glassy orbs showing clear signs of
shock.

The White Witch knelt down beside her,
unable to contain the smile that tugged at her lips. No one close
enough to hear, save for Elizabeth herself, Deborah leaned in near
her ear.

“
For all the truth of your words, you
will die a liar in the eyes of the realm. You could have been one
of us, immortal, but you chose to side with poor Alise.” She shook
her head. “By helping her bring that abomination into the world,
you ruined your only opportunity for a true and fulfilled life. I
hope you enjoyed your years in the wilderness, playing queen to the
peasant masses, because that will be your sad legacy.”

Elizabeth coughed black phlegm and crimson
blood, the viscous fluid staining her lips. “Keep you…your eyes on
your back, Deborah,” Elizabeth started with a weak voice, her words
little more than a whisper, “for your betrayal will come full
circle soon enough.”

Deborah laughed as she set her hand on the
woman’s chest. She could feel but the slightest sputter of her
heart. “For nearly two decades I have ruled Corilea, and in that
time, despite all your efforts, here I still stand, alive and well;
unlike you.” She smiled broad. “Alise went to her death with
courage, dying in silence as she was burned alive, the flesh
boiling from her bones. Will you be so bold, Elizabeth? Will you
die so bravely?”

The woman trembled, though from fear or
shock Deborah could not tell. She truly didn’t care. Elizabeth’s
time had come, at last, and it was the White Witch who controlled
the means of her destruction. It was a great moment and she wanted
to savor it.

The resistance had been crushed, and by
morning the people of the realm would know it was by her hand. Her
rule over Mynistiria would be without question. Even the Council
would not dare to challenge her. Deborah’s victory would allow them
to live on forever, and they would know that privilege was won by
her hand, be her strength. She sighed happily as she thought about
how she’d be received when she returned to the silver towers of
Corilea, bringing the news of her triumph.

A shadow flitted to her side and she glanced
up to see Shade walking toward her from the tree line. Though the
assassin’s arm hung limp at her side, her black garb stained with
even blacker blood, it was proof of the woman’s success. She
wondered where Gracelin might be, hoping to share the victory with
her, but she couldn’t wait. She had the resistance witch beaten and
ready to die. She’d be a fool to not take advantage of the moment.
Deborah couldn’t help but laugh at the thought, turning to look at
Elizabeth.

“
See, woman?” She pointed at the
assassin. “The war has been won on all fronts. You go to your grave
without hope of redemption. Alise and her brood are dead!” She
hovered above the fallen witch. “Now, it is your turn to join
them.”

Elizabeth stared up at her, her suffering
visible in her eyes. She trembled, crippled hands shaking at her
breast. She said nothing as Shade came to stand alongside Deborah.
The White Witch could see the defeat on Elizabeth’s face; smell its
rancid stink over the harsh scent of charred meat. It made her
happy to know she had brought the witch so low before she delivered
the last.

“
The end has come,” Deborah told her
as she held her palms out toward her. The flicker of magical energy
fluttered at her hands. “I send you now to the pyre, Elizabeth
Bourne. May the flames grant you the peace you could not find in
this world.”

The scent of brimstone filled the air as
Deborah summoned her magic with slow deliberation, dragging the
moment out as Elizabeth squirmed helpless on the ground before her.
The White Witch drew in a deep breath, tasting the tangy char of
power, and let it loose with casual ease. This was truly the end,
at last.

A flicker of silver flashed at the corner of
Deborah’s vision as she willed her magic to life. A shadow fell
across her and she felt a sharp pain at her eye and a sense of
impact.

Then she felt nothing.

Thirty-five

Sebastian couldn’t believe his luck. Dressed
in Shade’s garb, which he’d taken from her dead body, he’d been
able to walk up right beside the White Witch as she gloated over
her vanquished foe. She barely spared him a glance as he came to
stand alongside her, not even noticing the brown of his eyes that
looked back, so obviously different from the brilliant blue of the
assassin’s. She was so excited that she’d apparently taken his
disguised arrival as an assurance of her victory against himself,
the warlock abomination. She didn’t even question the missing Green
or Red Guard squadrons that had gone with her.