Witch Queen, Page 3

  He didn’t have to tell me again.

  Ignoring the pain in my leg, I bolted after Will and Leo. We ran carefully on the slippery polished floors and sprinted out the front entrance. The same infected mob was outside, but they were so surprised to see us that the moment of surprise gave us the head start we needed. We rushed towards the gate, and I was surprised to see it unguarded. But the bodies of our fallen comrades littered the ground where we had fought our way in, and the sight of them had tears springing to my eyes again. They had died in vain. Our rescue attempt had failed, and I would never forgive myself. Their deaths were on me.

  Leaving Soul City behind us, we galloped into the night, kicking up dirt as we tore down the main road heading south. Blood gushed down my thigh with each stride of my horse, but I felt the familiar tingling of my healing powers as my skin pulled and tugged and began to stitch itself together.

  I was a steel maiden from the same clan as my mother, and a witch. Seeking answers in Gray Havens was the only thing that fit. I needed answers—answers about me, about my mother, and about the black blight. If anyone knew more about this black magic, I was certain it would be the witches.

  I fumbled and tripped a few times, lost in images of Jon. His liquid-black eyes glared at me, full of hatred. It hurt more than I cared to admit. He wasn’t himself. I had to keep reminding myself.

  But I would make him right again.

  As I trudged up the path, the only the thing that kept me going was hope, hope that I could find a cure and free Jon from the black magic. My body fed on hope, and it filled me with new strength. The next thing I knew we had entered the Pit.

  The village was dark blue and black except where shafts of yellow light spilled from the decrepit haphazard huts. I cringed at the acrid smell of piss and unwashed bodies. I would never get used to the smells of the Pit. But there were still some signs of life in the streets. Men and women walked on the muddied paths and gossiped about the plague coming from Soul City. It was clear they believed it to be a new form of sickness. They just didn’t realize that it was of the supernatural kind. Their wide eyes showed that they were frightened, but they were not nearly frightened enough.

  The sounds, smells, everything around me in the Pit reminded me of Jon. The thought of him sent a jarring pain to my stomach. I kept my head low as we made a sharp turn and headed up a narrow street.

  By the time we reached my street, I was stiff all over. Golden light escaped from the only window of our dilapidated cottage. It was odd that Rose would still be up at this hour. It was past midnight. She’d been worried about me lately, and it would help if she knew the truth—the whole truth.

  I yanked open the door and flinched.

  There, sitting next to Rose, was the high witch, Ada.

  CHAPTER 3

  IT TOOK ME A few seconds to compose myself, for my brain to process what I was actually looking at.

  Ada, the high witch from Gray Havens, looked just as I remembered. She wore the same shapeless, forest-green linen gown that matched her eyes. The lines on her porcelain face were hard, and yet they revealed her knowledge and experience. Her white hair was piled neatly into a bun on the top of her head, and leaning next to her chair was a wooden staff carved with the faces of different animals. A long chain hung from her neck with a pentagram pendant in the shape of a star within a circle, the star of life, the symbol of witchcraft and magic.

  I recognized the two other witches sitting next to her as well. Sylvia was a middle-aged witch from the White Witches clan, like Ada. She had helped to heal and stitch up my own black magic wound. And Maya, a witch from the Augur clan, the seers, sat beside her. Her bald head and dark skin made her silver eyes pop like two shining moons. Both witches wore the same shapeless linen gowns. Sylvia’s was earth colored, and Maya’s was bright orange.

  When my eyes finally settled on Rose, her face was paler than usual, and she refused to look at me.

  Will and Leo moved in behind me and stood at the far wall, putting as much distance as they could between themselves and the witches. But with the seven of us in my small cottage, it was packed.

  I stood in front of them at the table. Witches didn’t just venture into the Pit to taste our bitter ale or to stay in our stinky uncomfortable inns. And yet, the three of them sat here in my cottage. It must have been a Pit record, if you excluded me and my mother. The witches’ presence could only mean trouble. I didn’t bother to ask how they knew where to find me. They were witches, after all, and they were very resourceful. Maybe Maya had seen something in one of her visions. When I finally found my voice, I said, “What’s happened?”

  “You mean other than the black blight?” said Ada.

  Her words hit me hard, and her tone stung a little. I knew she wasn’t accusing me of anything, even though I was partly to blame for all of this, but I held my ground and didn’t look away from her intense stare.

  Ada sighed, and for the first time I really saw her age. She looked ancient.

  “It’s worse than we thought. Much worse.”

  I leaned forward and placed my hands on the table. “In what way?”

  The high witch said nothing for a moment, her face impassive.

  “As I explained to you before, we always knew something was off with the arrival of these priests from the Temple of the Sun. We felt a shift in the balance—the balance of light and dark. Something that could shift the balance could ultimately destroy the world.”

  She paused for a moment, and her lips pressed into a hard line as she shook her head.

  “But we were never quite sure what their power was. Somehow they kept it hidden from us.”

  “We still do not know how they did it,” Maya cut in. She was not looking at anyone in particular, but her eyes sparkled with such reveries that I found myself mesmerized by them.

  Ada nodded. “And yet, we suspected that these so-called priests were some form of magic conjurers. We just didn’t know what type they were.”

  Sylvia moved forward in her seat. “But we always thought they were harmless because we couldn’t sense their magic. At one point we thought they were just regular men dabbling in the dark arts—harmless, but stupid. Somehow they were able to hide their power. We could never truly sense it.”

  “And now they have the tool to act,” said Maya.

  I shuddered involuntarily under her icy stare.

  “You mean with the stone, with the Heart of Arcania.”

  “That’s right.”

  What had I done? Was I too late? Had I failed Jon and damned him?

  I turned away from Maya’s unsettling eyes and focused my attention back on the high witch.

  “How many different kinds of magic conjurers are there?”

  I knew about witches and sorcerers. I’d hate to think there was more evil magic out there in Arcania.

  “Well,” said Ada, and she leaned back into her chair with a slight frown. “For one thing, you don’t have to be a witch to work magic. You just have to be willing to make the sacrifices—and the right ones at that. You can borrow the power from the earth, from life itself, and also from darkness and death. But in order to do so, you still need the skills and the old teachings.”

  She paused. “You can’t just decide you’re going to do magic. There’s more to it than that. It takes many years of practice, and sometimes it never comes.”

  She smiled at my confused expression.

  “Yes, it happens,” she continued. “Some witches and sorcerers lose the connection. Even those born with magic sometimes cannot wield it.”

  Like me, I wanted to add but I kept my mouth shut.

  “We are blood magic witches. We were born with natural magic, but it is clear that they were not. It’s why I believe,” and she raised her brow as she looked at the other two witches, “that they could hide their magic from us because it was different.”

  Her eyes met mine again.

  “Those who are taught in the ways of the old magic can conjure it withou
t having been born into it. Like these priests.”

  “So…” I scratched my head. “You think the priests are just regular men working magic? But how is that possible? I saw what the high priest did before he used the stone. He had powerful magic. No ordinary man could he wield such power. How could he do it?”

  “Blood would do it, lots and lots of it.”

  “Human sacrifices?” I thought of the young man I’d seen hung up to die in Soul City, and I fought the bile that rose in my throat.

  “Yes, blood sacrifices,” said the old witch. “It didn’t matter whether the victims were willing or not, as long as the priests got blood. The priests hid their true identities so that they could gain power from magic. They didn’t have it themselves. That is why they created this ridiculous race so many years ago. But our mistake was that we thought they would never be able to manipulate the power of the stone. We didn’t sense the true nature of their strategy. The race was, and has always been, a means to find their champion.”

  “And they did.”

  The shame in my voice moved her, and she smiled kindly at me. But it didn’t help my guilt. If I thought about the consequences of what I’d done too much, I would go mad with grief.

  “Yes, they did,” said Ada after a moment.

  I looked into her face and saw a brief flash of pain in her eyes.

  “And when they claimed the power of the stone, their true nature was finally revealed.”

  “As sorcerers,” I interjected. It was the only thing that made sense to me.

  “As something much worse,” said the high witch. A large vein throbbed in her forehead.

  Nerves pricked my spine. “Which is what, exactly?”

  Ada folded her gnarled hands on the table. “We thought at first that they were dark sorcerers or even dark witches…but we were wrong.”

  “So what are they then, if not sorcerers?” asked Leo. “What kind of monsters are these bastards?”

  “The worst.” Ada hesitated as though waiting to get everyone’s attention. She sank down further in her chair. “They are what we call necromancers.”

  “Necromancers?” I frowned. “I’ve never heard of them.”

  “And nor should you have,” said Sylvia. She folded a pleat on her gown. “The witches banished the necromancers from this part of the world thousands of years ago.” She opened her mouth to say more, but at the last moment decided against it.

  I locked my gaze on Ada again.

  “But from what you’re saying, they weren’t all banished. So what are they?”

  I couldn’t help losing my patience with the old witch. I wished she’d just come out and say it. We were wasting precious time, time that could help save Jon.

  Ada’s expression was hard and defiant behind her wrinkles.

  “They are the worst kind of evil. Necromancers are rotten to the core. They draw their strength from shadow and darkness, from the dead and from the realm of death itself. Their black magic can suck out souls, drive their victims insane, and the strongest of their kind can even summon demonic forces and open doorways into other dimensions. They twist and corrupt magic.”

  “And they’re here in Anglia.”

  My fingers dug into the tabletop. I tightened my jaw until it hurt. I didn’t know why I was so surprised to hear how powerful and evil these necromancer priests were. I had fought one, and if it hadn’t been for my own magic abilities, I would have died. I had thought of them in human terms, in killable human terms. I had to start thinking very differently. The more I listened to the old witch, the more powerful they seemed.

  As far as I knew, there were six high priests in Arcania, which could only mean that there were six necromancers.

  “And yet,” the high witch went on, “a necromancer cannot call forth power without the use of magic.”

  I sighed and wiped the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. “But they have magic. I’ve seen it. I’ve felt it.”

  The high witch shook her head. “You misunderstand. Necromancers aren’t blood witches. They are not born with magic like you and me. They must borrow their magic.”

  I leaned forward, curious.

  “Men that can borrow magic? Sounds almost impossible. Does that mean that anyone can do magic or have magic powers?”

  “Yes. No. It’s not that simple.” A shadow played on the old witch’s face.

  “Most non-magic folks are terrified of anything that has to do with magic. But there are and will always be a very small percentage of people who are curious, who are not afraid. Still, magic in the hands of an untrained person can kill them. It takes a very special type of person to make the necessary sacrifices to borrow magic. They must pay the ultimate price and sacrifice their humanity and their souls to acquire the power of magic.”

  I let the words sink in, doing my best to hide the shiver that passed through me.

  “So where’s the source of their power? Where are they borrowing their magic from?”

  It occurred to me then that if we could find the source of this magic and destroy it, we might have a fighting chance to kill the damn priests. If they could be reduced to men, to normal men without magic, then I could kill them. I would kill them.

  Ada shook her head, her thin lips pressed into a hard line.

  “We don’t know. All I know for certain is that it’s here in this world. It has to be from a very powerful source, perhaps even an unlimited spring of magic. Somewhere there is a crack in the world where the fountain of power spills to the surface, where they can easily access it. We know they’ve been borrowing it for centuries.”

  “More like stealing it.”

  I pressed one palm to my forehead, feeling a headache developing behind my eyes. The priests from the Temple of the Sun had taken everything from this land, from the people. It didn’t come as a surprise that if they had found a wellspring of magic from this world, they would take it, too.

  “What do they want?”

  “Power,” said Ada. “Above all else they want to control all life, to bind us to their will. The natural balance of light and dark has already shifted. One cannot exist without the other, not in this world. But what the necromancers are planning is the total obliteration of all that is light, of all that is natural and good. The darkness will spread until it consumes all light. Until there is nothing left of this glorious green and blue world, until there is nothing but ash and fire.”

  I thought of the meadows at Gray Havens, the sparkling lake. It was hard to imagine such a paradise burning, but I did, and my blood throbbed in my veins in answer.

  “The black blight. That’s what it is, the darkness you speak of.”

  Horror and dread twisted in my gut. I had damned everyone.

  “It doesn’t matter what name you give it,” said the high witch. “It has many names, but the end result is always the same.”

  She took a deep breath like she was trying to compose herself for what she was about to reveal. “When shadow and darkness cover most of the world, when the balance is lost, then the portals to the demon realms will unlock. And when they open, demons will have free reign over this world.”

  “You’ve only had a glimpse of such portals when you crossed Death’s Arm,” said Maya. Her silver eyes had lost a little of their shine, like she was losing her sight. She ran her fingers over her bald head.

  “Trust me, you don’t want any larger portals from the demon realm opening into ours. The portal you witnessed was nothing compared to what lurks in the other realms.”

  My breath caught in my throat. “The bogs. The demons in the bogs. That was a portal?”

  Ice rolled down my back at the thought of witnessing those creatures again. I wondered if the missing bodies had been taken back into the demon realm.

  Maya nodded with quick head movements.

  “The bogs are not from this world. They come from another dimension, another plane of existence, from another, darker world. There is a small splinter in our world’s veil
just in front of the crossing. It is merely a crack the size of a hand, but it is large enough for demons to escape from time to time before the fissure heals itself again. The balance can heal the smaller splinters in the veil, but it will be useless against many larger openings.”

  The high witch stared at me with a bewildered expression as I shook my head. My eyes were wide and terrified because I feared I already knew what she was about to reveal.

  “With the use of the stone,” continued the witch, “the necromancers can unlock the other realms and create vast openings in the veil, all over our world. It won’t matter if you’re here in Arcania or in Witchdom—the darkness will spread to us all without exception. Rich or poor, magic or non-magic, it will not matter. If they succeed in opening the portal to the demon realm, then all will be lost.”

  I stared at the old witch with a mixture of hate and desperation. My blood pounded in my ears as though I had just run from Soul City.

  Ada closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them again they were filled with a boundless sadness.

  “I feel we are as much to blame as anyone. We should have acted long ago. If we had, none of this wickedness, this blackening of the world, would be happening. We should have done something before it got out of our control.”

  I glowered at that. I wouldn’t think about the black blight as something they couldn’t fix.

  “But you can stop it, right?” I said. My fear rose inside me as I stared at Ada without blinking. “You said it yourself. They’re not demons or witches, they’re men, men playing with magic. If they bleed, then we can kill them.”

  I straightened up. My hands had balled into fists of their own volition, and I eyed each witch, one at a time.

  “We can kill them, and you can help us. You can help us cure this infection. You’re witches. You have magic. Surely you can figure out a way.”

  I stared at their expressionless faces, not even one of them tried to answer me. I wanted to slap them, but their united silence spoke volumes.

  The blood slowly drained from my face.