9781618851307WitchsBrewShayNC (15 page)

The sound of silence exploded in the room. Tension spread,
rushing through the air to fill every void in the chamber. The guild members
held their collective breaths, waiting.

Black Drayke swaggered closer to him. “It’s only because
you have a witch sister you hesitate to kill the Winslow witch. Whom I choose
to mate with is none of your concern, whether it’s an
illumrof
or a
witch. Do we understand each other,
Prince?”

Talon clenched his fists at his side. Black Drayke’s
breath touched his face, as foul as if he’d dined upon a meal of garlic and
leeches. The revolting sludge of evil rolled off the warlock like the oily
waves of the Onyx Ocean.

From
the corner of his eye, he saw Sage shift his weight. Talon waved him away with
a slight move of his hand, but he was smart enough to keep his attention
focused on Black Drayke. “For your sake, Black Drayke, leave Kali out of this
and keep the hell away from her.”

Black
Drayke snorted. “I hear she’s returning for the Maypole Festival this year.”

No
longer able to abide his crowding, Talon pushed Black Drayke away. “Keep your
distance from my sister.”

The warlock grinned. “I believe Princess Kali has reached
mating age. And the Maypole is, after all, a phallic symbol representing the
male’s coc—”

“I
know
what the Maypole represents. That doesn’t
give you free license with my sister.”

Black Drayke lifted an eyebrow. “I don’t require your
consent to…er…awaken her to the sensual pleasures of mating. All witches free
of bond or unclaimed are fair game at Beltane.”

Talon growled a warning just as Sage hooked his arm around
his shoulders and pulled him back from Black Drayke.

“Not here,” Sage warned quietly. “Not now.”

“Best listen to your cousin, Talon. Have no doubt I’m
looking forward to schooling your sister in the finer arts of mating.” He licked
his lips. “I’ll be gentle with her. That is, as gentle as I ever am with any
female.”

His
smugness lashed through Talon like the
Char-Flum-Rope
.

“Cease this quarrelling at once,” Darak bellowed, banging
the table with his gold scepter. “Let me remind you, Black Drayke, it’s
my
daughter you speak of so crudely. She’s not fair game for you or any male. Her
future is already set. She will mate with whom I have chosen for her and no
other.” He drew a deep breath and cleared his throat. “And leave the
illumrof
females alone. That is a law and must be obeyed.”

Talon searched his father’s face. His words were strong,
but his voice lacked conviction. Was his father afraid of Black Drayke? It
certainly seemed like it.

Black Drayke inclined his head at the king, flashing Talon
a sly grin. Talon tensed. If he uttered a single chant, he’d cast the warlock
into the Underworld.

“Forgive me, Majesty. I cannot resist teasing Talon.
Certainly, I’ve not mated with
illumrof
females. They look and smell like
trolls.”

“Trolls?” Sage gagged. “
Illumrof
females look like
trolls? I hadn’t heard this.”

“Disgustingly
ugly,” Black Drayke muttered. He looked up from scratching an oozing scab on
his arm, regarding Sage. “They do nothing to raise a man’s…er…expectations. Not
to my taste.” He nodded at the elders. “I’m certain the ancients recognize that
this Saylym Winslow is an endangerment to us all, as well as the fact this is
no place for the human intruder, Hannah Miller. They must be terminated. I’d
love nothing more than to terminate the witch. Next to mating, there’s nothing that
compares to the feeling when you snuff out a witch’s spirit. It’s glorious.”

Meeting
the warlock’s cold gaze, Talon barely concealed a shudder. He saw nothing but
death reflected back at him. The rumor that the warlock dabbled in the Black
Arts was obviously true from the way his eyes had changed from shimmering
peridot to dull onyx over the last few weeks. Even his skin was becoming putrid
as the evil leached from his pores. “Only to you,” Talon shot back. “It’s an
addictive habit and costly to our race.”

“So you keep saying,” Black Drayke said, his tone casual.
“Try it, Prince. You might just find you like it as much as I do.”

Talon shuddered. “No. Anything you take pleasure in isn’t
something I want to be addicted to.” Talon was afraid if the guild wasn’t
enforcing the laws, then they, and the king, were frightened of Black Drayke. He
snorted. Hell, so was he. From Black Drayke’s appearance, his powers were
increasing. Someone had to stop him. It might as well be him. “What are you
doing here, anyway?” Talon inquired. “It’s a closed meeting.”

Black Drayke smiled, but his eyes remained dull as a Black
Star Stone. “Your father invited me to the meeting, Prince. Surely he informed
you of this invitation? I’m sure you can respect that your father knows I’m
capable of doing what’s necessary if you cannot bring yourself to take out one
bungling witch. She’ll die, Talon. I promise you.”

Talon lunged at the evil warlock, locking his fingers in
the front of Black Drayke’s shirt. “You go anywhere near Saylym, I’ll hunt you
down and cast your black soul to Dym.” He shook the warlock. “Remember Dym, my
best friend, the Prince of Death? I’ll see to it that he makes available the
hottest part of Nemaland for you to dwell in for eternity. You’ll be nothing
but a sluggish, gray shadow. I
promise
you.”

“Talon.”
Darak barked his son’s name.
“Cease your threats and release him at once! He’s my guest.”

Talon ignored his father’s command, keeping his gaze
steady on Black Drayke. “I don’t waste my time making threats.”

“I
said stop it! There’s no call for this violence.”

He
took his time releasing Black Drayke, keeping the warlock pinned with his cold
perusal. Black Drayke stepped back; smoothing the front of his shirt.

Talon
scowled. Damn it! Given more provocation, he'd land in deeper trouble with his
father and the elders. He had to get control of himself. And he had to make
certain Saylym was adequately protected. He needed to see her, see how very
much alive her beautiful spirit was. If Black Drayke got near her, she’d suffer
and lose her soul.

The warlock’s sexual appetite was well known among the
wakens
and other warlocks. He was gluttonous and cruel. He’d use Saylym abysmally
until he was sated, then when she was at her weakest and no longer able to
fight him, he’d drain her of her spirit.

Talon closed his eyes, his shoulders slumping. What if
he
had
to terminate Saylym? What if she was too much of a risk for
their realm? No. He refused to accept that possibility. There were other ways
he could save her. Maybe they weren’t the most palatable, but desperate times
required desperate measures.

He faced the ancients. It galled him to have to ask them
for anything, but for Saylym…well, he’d eat shit, if necessary. So, he might as
well say it and get it behind him. “I formally petition the guild for the sole
right to determine if it is of absolute necessity Saylym Winslow’s spirit be
exiled.”

Abrupt
quiet filled the chambers.

From the horror on their faces, Talon guessed he’d rocked
the elders on their ancient asses. His father stared at him as if he thought
he’d lost his mind. Maybe he had, but he was in now, and there was no turning
back.

Chapter Eight

Martha Corey and
Rebecca Nurse are accused of witchcraft.

~
Salem Witch Trials

 
March 12-19, 1692

Page Entry…

Afraid of
being denounced by Queen Leyla and losing his position on the throne, Zoman made
a point to act proud of the newest addition to the royal family, at least, when
they were in the public eye.

In truth,
Zoman despised the babe
.

Elsbeth
had been born under a dark star, for she had not been fathered by Zoman, but by
another.

To pay the
waken back for his infidelity with Basheena, Leyla took a powerful sorcerer and
High Priest Wizard known as, Katch, for her lover.

Zoman
could not be found the night of All Hallows’ Eve as his queen labored, but
Katch sat at her bedside and held her hand, soothed her pain with words of
magic while she gave birth to their child. Awestruck, Katch and Leyla shared
the glorious wonder of the babe they’d created together, because something
wonderful had happened with the mingling of their magical bloodlines.

Elsbeth
was born with tri-colored eyes, a blend of silver, lavender and dark violet,
something never before seen by witch or wizard. Elsbeth also bore a combination
of witch marks, a cluster of violet-colored stars on her left shoulder and a
quarter-moon with a soaring comet beneath it on her right shoulder. The stars
represented the alignment of the House of Wizardry, and the moon and comet,
with the Royal House of the Winslow line. Indeed, this was a new, powerful
bloodline, and the generations yet to come would inherit unique powers that one
day would be legend.

~Pages of
history from the Winslow witches

In the
Year of Samhain 1150

Ru-Noc

Droth

City of the wakens

A
strangled gasp finally broke the utter silence in the chamber. The four members
of the Guild stared at Talon as if he’d suddenly sprouted warts on his chin.

“Eeh?”
Saul said, cupping his ear. “Did the boy say he wishes to wed?”

Darak raised his hand to his chest, fingers splayed.
“Talon, are you certain you want this burden on your conscience? It
isn’t
an easy task. That is why the ancients pass down sentences instead of
encumbering the younger
wakens
with such a decision.”

Talon gave a slight nod, surprised how choked his father
sounded. “I’m sure. I humbly request the right be granted to me.”

If Saylym’s spirit removal became necessary, then at least
with him, the decision wouldn’t be rendered lightly, and he’d make damn certain
it’d be accomplished painlessly. He’d ease her soul from her body with a gentle
kiss. She’d never realize what was happening to her.

Katch rose to his feet. “Are you certain you want this
choice?”

“Yes,” Talon replied. He couldn’t remember the sorcerer
asking so many questions before.

“I object!” Black Drayke barked the words, storming toward
the round table. “There’s no doubt as to this witch’s guilt. Her spirit must be
exiled!”

“And
when are you
not
objecting about one thing or another?”

Heads
turned at Prince Stry’s shouted words and his late entrance into the chamber.
His long legs ate up the distance as he crossed the room to stand beside Talon
and Sage.

Talon flashed an irritated glare at his brother, but
inwardly, he heaved a sigh of relief. Finally, Stry had shown up for the
meeting. The casual way his brother dressed reminded him of a buccaneer. A
loose fitting, white silk shirt, cream colored leather vest, and soft, brown
leather pants, looked very piratical; all he needed was a parrot on his
shoulder to complete the picture. Instead, a
Bawk
rode on the leather
gauntlet that protected Stry’s arm from the sharp claws of the rare bird.

Talon
knew from their boyhood wrestling matches that Stry, at least four inches
taller than he, was also stronger and had thigh muscles that could break ribs.
Even wearing low-heeled, scuffed boots, he towered over the others in the
chamber. As future heir to the throne, he was noble and dignified, yet he
possessed a quietly, dangerous air about him. No one argued with him when he
spoke, not even the king.

As
was the
waken
fashion, his cinnamon-shaded hair fell past his shoulders.
His eyes glittered like rich, amber stone.

Talon
sighed. The only thing they had in common was their belief it was wrong to
assassinate witches, yet they were close. Stry always supported him in front of
the guild and their father.

“What’s
going on?” Stry asked in a low tone for his ears only.

Talon
quietly filled his brother in on the situation.

“Ah, I see.” He rubbed his chin. “Well, aren’t the other
witch and the
illumrof
a nuisance as well?” Stry directed the question
to the ancients, but he cut his gaze at Black Drayke. Slow to anger, he was
usually calm and cool in his manner. Stry soothed the
Futhar
perched on
his arm. “Easy, Rune,” he mumbled, stroking the thick, downy feathers on the
exotic creature’s head. “I know you like Black Drayke even less than I.”

Rune
blinked its elongated red eyes and squawked displeasure. “He’s a foul creature,
Stry. He reeks of immorality.”

Black
Drayke shot the bird a hard look. “Shut up that damn bird, Prince, or you just
might find its tongue cut out.”

Solid
black in color, the fierce bird was a cross between a bat, a hawk, and a
prehistoric bird of unknown origin, hence the elongated eyes. The bird had the
thin wingspan and acute hearing of a bat but the head and beak of a hawk. The
creature was a rarity in their realm and a gift from Dym, the Prince of Death,
to the future King of Ru-Noc. “Try it,” Stry dared. “Rune will rip out your
eyes with his talons.”

Black Drayke snorted.

Stry nodded his understanding at the fierce bird. “Calm
down, Rune. He has enough sense to leave you alone. I think.”

The bird ruffled its feathers in agitation. “Let us hope,
for it is not only his eyes I will rip out, but also his manhood.”

Stry leaned in, placing his hands flat on the surface of
the round table. He studied each member of the guild in turn. “We need new laws
to govern us. If the old laws cause this much upset, you must see they need
changing. The termination of witches should have been abolished after the late
1600s, when their numbers reached a critical dip.” He looked the king straight
in the eye. “Talon’s right, Father, and well you know it. If we are to survive
as a race, there must be changes. Grant Talon’s request, for he is fully
capable of deciding if the witch requires spirit removal. His judgment is infallible.
I’m certain his decision will be based on honest evidence and fair to the
benefit of us all.”