She grinned at my shocked expression, revealing sharp teeth. Too sharp for my liking.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded, fingers going to my thigh where my knife was hidden.
“Same as you.” She shrugged, causing her rags to slip off one shoulder. “Looking for shelter from the storm.”
Pulling the knife free of its sheath, I lifted my chin. “The Piper shall return any moment, and I don’t believe he will be happy with you trespassing on his property.”
She giggled, actually giggled as though she were five-years-old instead of some ancient hag who should be dead.
I scowled.
“Oh, the Piper. You don’t seriously believe in his magic.”
“I’ve seen it with my own eyes,” I retorted, wondering why I was about to get into an argument with a hag when I wanted to be in my room. It was rather disconcerting that she was in the castle at all.
“Please.” The hag rolled her watery eyes. “He’s no match for me.”
And then, with surprising quickness, she bounded up the stairs and landed in front of me with an inhuman, feline leap.
I staggered back, frightened by her speed. Bringing my hand up, I pointed the knife at her. “Get away from me,” I spat.
“I enjoy a good hunt.” She took a step, closing the distance between us. “But it’s too late for that now. I’m rather hungry.”
Adrenaline rushed through me as I squeezed the knife to keep my fingers from shaking. It occurred to me that I should have asked Oren to teach me how to use it instead of trusting my instincts. The hag pounced, knocking my hand away.
My wrist struck the wall, and I dropped the knife as I fell, limbs flailing as I struggled to protect myself. Something hard stabbed my side. Arching my back, I screamed, fingers reaching for the weapon that wasn’t there. I went numb as a haze came over me. Weakness surged through each limb, and the hag peered down at me, her curved fingernails patting my cheek. When she spoke, it sounded as though her voice came from a void. “That’s better. Now. Time to eat.”
Valiantly, I attempted to struggle, but whatever she’d done had paralyzed me. My chest tightened as though my breath was being stolen away, and I faded out of consciousness.
22Oren
My thoughts drifted to Tanith as I stood under the awning of the barn, watching the bullets of silvery rock flatten the land. If anyone were out in the storm, they would return home bruised unless they sought shelter, but the goose egg sized hail wasn’t big enough to kill.
Barnum sat a few feet away, gnawing on a bone that smelled a little too fresh. Hunks of bloody meat still clung to it, a bit of his latest kill he’d taken the time to drag along with him. I was used to such gruesomeness, but Tanith’s fear had been raw and ripe, as if I’d set Barnum on her. He was rather fearsome to look at with his skull on the outside. He didn’t belong in this world, but I’d only summoned him out of need. Now I reconsidered. Perhaps the hail was enough and Lord Faren would see reason.
“I need your pack to be nearby, ready for my summons,” I told Barnum. “The city of Dowler has to be ripe with fear, ready to fall to my demands, but there should be no death, only fear.”
Barnum lifted his ears, his dark eyes acknowledging my request as he chewed. I hoped his pack was still as big as it had been previously—a motley crew of half-starved canines with a thirst for blood and human flesh. They enjoyed the hunt, mainly the fear of their prey, and Tanith’s reaction had been enlightening. The citizens of Dowler would revolt. Plague and fear could only last so long, and then they’d mentally break. But would they be strong enough to stand up to Lord Faren, or would they flee?
Bitter memories plagued me, and unable to shake them away, I decided to return to the castle. Tanith had news for me. I sensed her anticipation, and she’d returned earlier than I’d expected. With her help, this could be the turning point to end my quest for vengeance once and for all. Leaving Barnum to his bone, I stepped into the storm.
Wind and rain swirled around me, then paused as I lifted my hands, the halo of magic surrounding me blocking off the advances of the storm. It obeyed, for I was the one who had summoned it. The magic held until I reached the doors of the castle and slipped inside to peace.
An odd musk hung in the air and I sniffed, frowning at the scent. It smelled ancient, like moss and dried leaves. Like dead things lying in hibernation on the forest floor, waiting for the light to bring them hope and embed them into the cycle of renewal. What was it?
I strode to the stairs, the light muted in the storm's wake. Window panes shook, and the hail sounded like a clattering of jewels against the glass. It reminded me of a lifetime ago when I was a boy and crystals had rained from the heavens. The orphans and I had collected them for our masters, and often, fights had broken out in the wake of those heavenly storms, for those who brought back the most jewels had been rewarded, and those who brought back the least, punished. Once, a boy older and stronger than me stole my bucket of jewels, leaving me with a tiny pouch. I was flogged, then starved for three days as a reminder I needed to be stronger, faster, better. Only the best survived.
Pale torchlight flickered as I reached the top of the stairs, pausing at the red sheen that covered the floor. Bright red blood, only a few drops and yet…. I bent, rubbing it between my fingers and sniffed. The only person alive in the castle was Tanith. Correction.Shouldhave only been Tanith. But I’d evaded my duty of finding the unwelcome guest who might have taken up residence during my slumber.
My shoulders tensed and a pounding began in the back of my skull as I followed the trail of blood until it ended rather abruptly in the middle of the hallway. Either Tanith had cut herself and staunched the flow of blood or—my mind leaped to the worst conclusion—she’d been taken. I sniffed the air again, that musty scent oh-so-familiar, yet I couldn’t place it. I followed the scent as it turned sweet and sickly, up the spiral staircase, my frustration swelling with each floor.
I passed the attic level and moved higher to the towers. I’d never cared much for them. Towers were where terrible things happened. Kings locked up their wives and daughters. Dragons guarded them, and knights rode in search of honor, to defend or save those within. And then there was my haunted past and the binding. It sounded like a fable.
Once upon a time, an all-powerful sorceress took great delight in punishing knights who displeased her by binding them to a tower. The tower was cursed and so were they, until time rendered the curse void, or the knights were forced to break it. All the while, immortality taunted them with longevity, and the torture never ended.
At the top, the stairs spilled into a concave room—the opening shrouded by a black curtain. I stilled in awareness just outside, recognizing my foe. A witch, probably experienced in the art of dark magic. Tanith. How long had it been since she was taken?
Any minute, the witch would sense my magic and prepare. Lifting my flute, I moved quickly, lightly side-stepping through the curtain into her lair. It was gloomy, with tendrils of smoke curling around my ankles. Faded pale lights hung from the ceiling, obscured by more dark drapery. A fireplace took up one side of the wall, large enough for someone to stand comfortably inside. Over the flames, a caldron bubbled with boiling, green energy. There, in the middle of the room, was the altar, with white bones, raven feathers, and my wife—spread-eagle, utterly naked—while that wicked witch did her work.
