Rise (War Witch Book 1) (48 page)

"Seriously, whoever wove these enchantments was an artist," the Half Elf told them. "Just look at the way they mesh together to create a single lattice! It's beautiful!"

"I'll take your word for it," Chara sighed. "Can you recharge them or not?"

"Of course I can," Rayne told her. "I'm a sorceress, aren't I?"

"That question does beg to be answered," Esteban muttered.

Rayne laughed hysterically at that. "Hey! He's funny! And observant! I like that in Cats, the whole observant thing, with the observing. It's so observational! More so than the sorcerer who taught me sorcery anyway. Or the wizard who taught me wizardry, or the druid who taught me druidism, or the cleric who taught me clericy. Wait. Is clericy a word? Ah, who cares, it is now. Man, you've got to tell me where you got this. It's something else. Same place you got Mr. Cat there I assume?"

"My name is Esteban," he groused, then paused, staring at her in wonder. "Wait. You can't possibly know all those magic traditions. Unless..."

Rayne smirked at him as Chara glanced back and forth between the two. "Unless what?"

"She's a Spellweaver," Esteban answered in an awed tone.

Rayne's eyes narrowed slightly. "You really are very observant, aren't you, pretty kitty? I like that in a man. Or I would, if I was into men, which I'm not, though you probably noticed that already, since I did all the groping of Chara there, and you being observant and all."

Chara took an involuntary step back, her ingrained trust of Blessed clashing with her life-long lessons that Spellweavers were dangerous, to be trusted under no circumstances, as they were thieves, charlatans, and murderers to the last. Slowly, her faith in Heaven won out.

"That can't be right," she said slowly.

"Afraid it is," Rayne told her, spinning the mystic handguns on the counter as she jerked her goggles back down to watch them. "But never mind that. You should know by now that you can't believe everything you’re told. If you did, you wouldn't be dating the fur ball there, now would you, what with Werebeasts all being savage animals in the service of the Demon Gods, am I right?"

"Now see here," Esteban snorted in outrage.

"Point is," Rayne cut him off, looking back at them as she lifted one side of her goggles so they could see the twinkle in her topaz eyes. "Some stories you're told to frighten you into being a good little girl are just straight up fables. Isn't that so, Mr. Esteban?"

Chagrined, he slumped and nodded. "Indeed it is, Lady Rayne."

"Good, now that we got that sorted,” she exclaimed, hopping up on the counter. "I'll need some time to study the matrix of spellwork that went into making these cute little toys before I can properly channel mystic energy back into them. Give me, oh, let's say, a week, and they'll be good as new, all for you. How's about it, sweet Chara? Sound like a deal?"

Seeing her mulling it, Esteban leaned down, saying, "We shouldn't leave them with her, beloved. She's a Spellweaver. They're not to be trusted."

"She's also a Blessed," Chara replied.

"The mark could be a fake, meant to lure the unsuspecting into a trap," the big Cat pointed out.

Chara shook her head. "It isn't. She's for real."

"I don't feel comfortable with this," he sighed.

"I know," she said. "But I'm going to trust her."

Glancing back at the crazy woman who was spinning around on the counter alongside the mystic weapons, Esteban let her know with a surly growl, "You'd best be here when we come back."

"Where else would I be?" Rayne snickered. "I live upstairs."

Nodding, Chara took her lover by the hand. "We'll be back in a week."

"See you then," Rayne cried, waving enthusiastically as they made their way to the door, exiting onto the street.

As the door swung shut, she lowered her arm, staring after them with a dark look on her face, until Dint materialized behind her, leaning on the counter. Picking up one of the mystic weapons, she studied it for a moment, then tapped it against her cheek, thinking hard.

"Odd pair, those two," she said slowly.

"They weren't alone, either," her Ascended told her.

"Really, now?" she asked.

He nodded. "An Ascended, though he seems to have abandoned, or been removed from, his proper position."

"What was his interest in them?" Rayne asked.

Dint shrugged. "Hard to say. He mentioned something about having invested years in the young lady, though."

"That certainly explains her messed-up aura," the Half Elf said thoughtfully. "The Cat’s as well. He's been manipulating them."

"If that's the case, he's violated the laws of the Ascended," the demigod replied, face darkening.

"Yup," she agreed. "Though I'd wager that has to do with his lack of proper position. He's been given clearance to toy with them."

Dint considered that for a moment. "So, what should we do?"

"Recharge her weapons," Rayne said with a shrug. "Whatever's going on, we should just stay out of it, for now, at least. Judging from what I glimpsed in her aura, that woman is extremely valuable to someone."

"How valuable?" her Ascended asked, suddenly curious.

"More than you can imagine," she replied, tone heavy with worry. "Enough to risk her soul."

Dint frowned. Someone in Heaven was playing a dangerous game. For once, he was glad he didn't know more. Glancing at his Blessed, his frown deepened as he saw the wistful look that played over her features.

"Did you see something else?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said slowly. "I saw her soul."

The Ascended gave her a bemused look. "That's sort of how the Divine Gift works, Rayne."

"No," she replied with a smile. "I saw it, and it sang to me."

Dint's expression turned to confusion. "I don't think I follow."

"She's the one," Rayne told him with a wide smile. "She's my angel, the one I've been waiting for."

"Still lost," he admitted.

She giggled. "Do you know the Elven story of the twin souls?"

He could see it was going to be one of her enigmatic days.

Ramora and Leto waved goodbye to their fellow Blessed as they departed the castle, going their separate ways. Rick and Bit were staying at an inn near the dockyards, while Flick was sleeping at his cousin's house in the upscale Hadar District. Tanna and Izra had taken rooms on the eastern end of the city, while Sabra was crashing at a flop house in the slums, over a tavern.

The group had spent the rest of the day going over the layout of Draco's stronghold Collette had died to provide them with, Bit thinking it a bright idea, for no apparent reason, to build the place to scale on the table out of wine bottles. While his half-inebriated state was annoying, his idea turned out to be rather brilliant, allowing them to formulate a plan of attack that utilized their Divine Gifts to maximum success. Especially the blind Troll, whose ability to create and manipulate shadows would be essential to what they’d easily agreed would be a night time raid.

Rick's ability to project his spirit from his body would be their guide the entire way, his Divine Gift allowing him to move unseen by the Demon Seed, yet still communicate with his teammates and flit easily from place to place. As their eyes, he would be able to guide them past many of the guards, letting them strike from within.

Once inside the walls, under the cover of Tanna's shadows, the rest of them would come into play. Sabra's Gift to spit a deadly poison would gain them entrance to the stronghold and repel any close quarters assaults that her skill as an Ogre didn't handle first, while Bit stormed the outside, knocking down the guard towers with his Divine Gift. Amaron had seen fit to turn his Blessed into warhorses, their unarmed strikes powerful enough to topple walls, and the tiny Halfling was no different than any other of the Horse God’s Blessed. Backing him up would be Tanna, using the night as a weapon to cover his back, her deadly shadows taking out the guards.

Inside, Izra and Ramora would take the lead, the Divine Fire Hepheron bestowed on any weapon his children held working well with Ramor's insight. Together, they would take out any who crossed their path, while Leto and Flick brought up the rear, the Blessed of Grannax using his Sunspear to mop up the remains, the Dwarf using his Gift of luck to ensure everything went in their favor.

A solid plan, they all agreed, that would give them the best possible chance for success. Troubling was the lack of information on Draco himself, specifically, which Demon God had chosen to Bless him. With their main target still a wild card, the team knew they’d have to regroup as quickly as possible so they could combine their efforts against him.

Rumilla, it was agreed, would just do what she did best. Rain chaos down on the Demon Seed with her blend of sorcery and the Divine Gift of Rajan, the ability to hurl holy lighting from her bare hands. The man they hunted may be unpredictable, but so was the fiery Elven Princess who would join them in Ricmar.

Though she couldn’t speak, Ramora thanked them all for risking their lives to help avenge her home and family. She knew as well as they did that Draco was growing too powerful, and must be dealt with, but for her, it truly was a personal crusade to punish the man who’d taken everything from her and to finally allow her family to rest in peace. To the last, her new companions had simply nodded, agreeing that while this was for the greater good, Ramora's devastated childhood had to be answered for.

"I think Izra likes you," Leto chuckled as they made their way back to the inn.

Ramora gave him a humorous look, holding up her thumb and forefinger, the space between them tiny.

He laughed at that, slipping his hands in his pockets. "Seems I have some competition for your attention. I'm not sure this is a battle I can win."

Ramora shrugged, giving him nothing. At the look of mock pain that crossed his face, she admitted he and the Deep Elf were neck in neck for that goal.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were enjoying this," he said, grinning.

The Blessed of Ramor gave him a sly look, confessing that the Blessed of Hepheron was very lovely. He wasn't bad, either, of course.

"Ouch," he groaned. "This is how it always goes, sadly. There's always a woman out there who’s prettier than me." He gave a very dramatic sigh that made Ramora laugh.

Enjoying herself every bit as much as Leto thought she was, the warrior offered him a consoling smile, and assured him there would always be a place for him as her beloved little brother.

"Now you're just being mean," he joked. "I can see it with Bit, but come on, I'm pretty hunky."

Snickering silently, she patted him on the arm, letting him know that he wasn't half bad in the hunk department.

"Growing up with Ascended has warped your views," he told her. "Among mere mortals, I’m delightful. Everyone tells me so."

Looping an arm through his, Ramora nodded, reminding him that Lieutenant Rills had found him especially captivating.

Grimacing, Leto retreated from that suggestion. "Nice guy, but I've never been good with fawning. Now, Rick, on the other hand, that's more my type."

Giving him a seductive look, Ramora asked what had happened to her being his type.

Flushing suddenly, Leto fumbled for words. "Well, you know, I mean, I wouldn't want to presume overly much, or anything."

Laughing, she leaned into him and called him a casual flirt.

"I admit it, I am," he sighed. "Back home, the ladies like men who smile and wink, but don't actually chase. They prefer to do the chasing themselves. Now, it would appear, my habit has gotten me in trouble."

Depends
, she signed.
How many times have you been caught?

Coughing, his blush deepened. "A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell, you know."

Feigning shock, Ramora asked when he'd become a gentleman.

"Now you’re being mean again," he chastised her. "Or do you prefer when an interested party is as forward as Izra?"

Enjoying their casual banter, she smiled, admitting a little less forward was her preference. She chose to keep it to herself that if she hadn't wanted to check in on Chara and Esteban, she might well have headed back to the Deep Elf's room with her. For all her aggressiveness, the woman was very attractive, after all, and Ramora was growing weary of cuddling her pillow at night.

About time
, her Avatar whistled.

Shooing the little Rabbit, she turned a smile up at Leto, grateful to see him smile back. Maybe it was time to let go of her heartache over Chara and enjoy life a little. Maybe even with the gentleman on her arm.

Why not
, she asked herself.

Her Rabbit sang about there being no good reason not to savor the Blessed of Grannax and the Blessed of Hepheron, maybe at the same time.

Blushing a little, she asked the Bunny to kindly not put such ideas in her head. She was only human, after all, and had a mission to focus on.

With a merry tune, the Rabbit sang about it anyway, conjuring a melody of sweat-slicked bodies, gentle moans, and how lovely the dark-skinned Elf would look between the two blondes. The images it wove with its musical voice were quite graphic.