Everwylde Page 25

  “What will you do?”

  Jarin grinned. “What I do best.”

  Carac watched the warlock walk away to be swallowed by the shadows. At least near the center of the Grove, the whispers weren’t so prevalent. Carac felt something brush along his back. He gripped his sword tighter but didn’t turn around. He walked from the tree line and into the clearing.

  It took everything he had not to rush to Ravyn. As he drew closer, he saw the torture she had been put through. Her clothes were shredded, her face was bruised, one eye was swollen shut, and she had cuts everywhere.

  His chest tightened as he knelt beside her and lifted a matted tangle of her long, midnight locks. He had been subjected to torture once, so he knew the wounds reached much further than just skin-deep.

  He smoothed her hair back from her face, his throat clogged with emotion. Had they entered her mind like they had Simon’s? When she woke—if she woke—would she be the same warrior that he’d fallen in love with?

  Carac reached for her hand. Before he could touch it, he was flying through the air. He managed to hold onto his sword, even when he landed so hard that it knocked the breath from his body.

  He rose up on an elbow and watched as Sybbyl and Angmar, who held the staff, walked from mist that had suddenly appeared. As if it were their doorway somehow. He had seen the same fog at the castle.

  “What a surprise,” Sybbyl said as she sauntered toward him.

  Carac managed to get to his feet. “Is it? I thought whatever was done to Simon would tell you what we were doing?”

  Angmar’s blue eyes narrowed. “Who helped you?”

  “Does it matter?” he taunted. “I bet it irritates you to know that there are witches who continue to stand against you.”

  “Not for much longer,” Angmar replied.

  Carac raised his brows. “Really? How do you expect to get the Blood Skull if you burn every time you touch it? That is what happened to your face, aye?”

  He didn’t hide his smile when Angmar’s hand immediately rose to touch the scars.

  Sybbyl tsked. “Did you learn nothing from our encounters, Carac? You cannot best us. You lack...well, everything.”

  He raised his sword. “Did you miss the part where a witch helped us?”

  “Or you could be lying.”

  “Why would I lie about that?”

  Sybbyl shrugged and tossed her blond hair. “To try and make us believe that your weapon can hurt us.”

  He looked at the new gown she wore. No longer could he see the cuts Margery had inflicted, but he bet they were still there. “How are your wounds, by the way? The Hunters are formidable, are they not?”

  “I would disagree with that,” Angmar said and looked at Ravyn. “It was easy to break her.”

  Carac was no fool. He wouldn’t believe anything the witch said. Especially when it was about Ravyn. Instead, he smiled. “You are going to die today.”

  “Me?” Angmar said with a laugh. She raised a dark brow and motioned to the staff. “Did you forget what I now hold?”

  “Did you honestly think I came alone?”

  Sybbyl let out a bark of laughter before it grew. She covered her mouth with her hand and gave him a pitying look. “Call your men out, Carac.”

  Unease coursed through him. He stared at the witches. They couldn’t know how many of his men he’d brought with him inside the Grove. Yet he gave the signal for them to come out. And none did.

  “They will not be joining you,” Angmar said. “They are now in the hands of the Gira.”

  Sybbyl laughed again. “It looks like it is just you and us. Too bad the fight will be over before it even begins.”

  Carac glanced at Ravyn to find her eyes open and focused on him. He didn’t know if she was aware that it was him. It didn’t matter. He would fight for her, for everything she stood for.

  “What are you waiting for?” Carac demanded.

  Suddenly, the temperature became frigid. And to Carac’s shock, the ghost from Bryce Castle appeared. Rossamond pointed a finger at the staff and told Angmar, “That is not yours.”

  “Yet I am holding it, and there is nothing you can do about that,” the witch announced.

  Carac didn’t wait to hear what the ghost might say. The witches’ attention was elsewhere, and he was going to take advantage of it. He rushed toward the center of the Grove where they stood.

  He only took two steps before Sybbyl raised her hand and locked her eyes on him. He flew backwards, slamming into a tree before crumpling to the ground.

  Carac raised his head to see that Rossamond’s beautiful face had been replaced by the skeletal figure. The specter was flying around Angmar, skimming through the witch’s body again and again. All the while, Angmar kept throwing magic at the ghost.

  Carac jumped to his feet and once more faced off against Sybbyl. Except, this time, he wasn’t alone. Jarin strolled from the trees. Sybbyl smiled when she saw him, but it quickly faded when she realized he was something more.

  Sybbyl looked between him and Jarin. “Just two of you? Really?”

  “I hear a tremor in your voice,” Jarin replied.

  In response, Sybbyl raised her hands and sent a blast of magic. Jarin merely raised his staff and blocked it. Carac grinned and twisted his wrist to twirl his sword.

  Chapter 38

  Was she dreaming? Surely, she was. Ravyn had drifted into a corner of her mind where she kept her memories of Carac. She was reliving them when she thought she heard his voice.

  It was a trick. It had to be. But then she opened her eyes and saw him.

  Before she could fully grasp his appearance, the ghost was there, attacking Angmar. And then another man appeared, easily deflecting Sybbyl’s magic.

  He was obviously Varroki. But how had he and Carac met up? Ravyn rolled onto her side, wincing at the pain. It didn’t matter how or why any of them were there. A battle was taking place, and she was meant to be in it.

  She could only watch as Carac and Jarin attacked Sybbyl at once. The witch was having a difficult time dodging Jarin’s magic and Carac’s sword.

  Ravyn tried to push herself up. It took several tries before she was able to get into a semi-seated position. Pain vibrated through her every time she breathed, so moving was excruciating.

  She glanced at Angmar and smiled to find that the ghost was doing considerable damage to the elder. But Ravyn’s gaze returned to Carac. This might only be his second time fighting a witch, but he learned quickly.

  He moved often, never remaining in one spot. His sword work was mesmerizing as he got closer and closer to Sybbyl each time. Then he got too near, and Sybbyl knocked him back so that he flipped head over heels.

  As soon as he landed, though, he was back on his feet, returning to the battle. But Ravyn’s gaze was on what had fallen out of his boot. Her last arrow.

  With her teeth clenched, Ravyn crawled to the bolt and wrapped her fingers around it. Sybbyl had shattered her crossbow, but that didn’t matter. Ravyn didn’t need it.

  Though it took several attempts, she eventually got to her feet. Ravyn’s gaze locked on Angmar. She was the last elder. Without her, the Coven would crumble. But Ravyn’s eyes slid to Sybbyl.

  She’d promised her family she would kill the witch that slaughtered them. Yet, she only had strength enough to take out one.

  With a sigh, she focused on Angmar. Then, with measured steps, she began making her way to the elder. Halfway there, Ravyn’s knee gave out, and she fell to the ground, the arrow slipping from her fingers.

  Tears gathered. She had trained to battle the witches. But nothing could have prepared her for the endless torture and the things witches could do with their magic.

  She felt hot tears on her cheek and dug her fingers into the ground, pulling herself slowly and painfully toward the arrow. Finally, she had it in her grasp again.

  It would be so easy to lie down and let the others fight. It was what her body wanted. She hurt so badly. If she allowed sleep to cla
im her, the agony would stop, if only for a little while. Didn’t she deserve it?

  An image of Margery dying filled her mind. Then she heard her family’s screams. Ravyn squeezed her eyes shut and drew in a shaky breath. When she opened her eyes, she pushed herself up as far as she could. It was only to her hands and knees, but she could crawl.

  She didn’t know how far she’d gotten before she heard Carac shout her name a second before she was tossed into the air. Ravyn landed and rolled several times before she came to a stop.

  When she looked up, she was farther from Angmar than before. And she wasn’t sure she had the energy to get up again. Her tears fell against her split lip, stinging it as she peered at the arrow in her grasp.

  How confident she had been that she could take out any witch. How utterly ridiculous she must have seemed to everyone. A few victories did not make her special. There were endless witches in the Coven. Instead of thinking about a single witch who had killed her family, Ravyn should have been focused on the bigger picture.

  And now, she was paying the price.

  She looked at the elder again. Ravyn blinked because it looked as if Rossamond were pushing Angmar backward. Right to Ravyn.

  This propelled Ravyn. She knew she had one chance. Sybbyl’s back was to her, and Angmar had no idea she was there. All Ravyn had to do was get to her feet. But could she? She glanced at Carac fighting with everything he had.

  She swallowed and bit back a cry of pain as she rolled onto her stomach. Her arms shook as she pushed herself up onto her knees. Getting to her feet wasn’t easy. She fell twice, and each time, she felt more of her blood running from the cuts along her body.

  But then she was standing. She was so unsteady that a breeze could knock her over, but she remained upright. Her gaze slid to Angmar as the elder was pushed back again, coming closer and closer to Ravyn until she could almost reach out and touch the witch.

  Then Angmar whirled around, her eyes widening when she saw Ravyn. She smiled and thrust the arrow between the elder’s two ribs, right into her heart.

  Ravyn reached for the staff the same time the ghost went through Angmar once more. The staff flew through the air, glowing with magic. Ravyn could only watch as time slowed to a crawl and Sybbyl spun around.

  She and Jarin leapt for the staff at the same time. There was a bright flash, and then Jarin fell to the ground on bent knees.

  “It is lost,” Rossamond wailed. “The staff is in the hands of the Coven!”

  The world began spinning then. Ravyn felt herself falling. Then she was caught in strong arms and held against a hard chest she knew well.

  “I have you,” Carac said. “I have you, love. It is going to be all right now.”

  She wanted to answer him, but she could no longer hold back the darkness that dotted her vision.

  The first thing she heard was chirping. Ravyn slowly came awake and opened her eyes. She had to blink against the sunlight pouring through the window. She recognized the ivy on the windowsill and the circlet of flowers hanging on the wall that Leoma had made for her when they were just children.

  Somehow, Ravyn was back at the abbey. She took stock of her body and felt no pain, which was a relief. Her head turned on the pillow, and her eyes landed on a blond head near her hand.

  She threaded her fingers through the golden locks. Immediately, Carac raised his head, his green eyes meeting hers.

  “I thought I’d lost you,” he murmured.

  She choked up when she saw the emotion filling his eyes. “I am so sorry I left.”

  “Nay,” he said with a shake of his head. “I know you did not willingly do it.”

  Ravyn closed her eyes, but a tear escaped anyway. She sniffed and looked at Carac. “How did you find me?”

  “I was going after the witches because I knew they were responsible for Margery’s death.”

  Ravyn blinked rapidly at the reminder of her friend’s murder, but the tears flowed anyway.

  Carac took her hand and kissed it, enfolding it between both of his. “There was a memorial here, and we buried Margery at the camp.” He paused a moment. “Another witch found me. Helena. She told me that the Coven had you. Then she freed Simon from the magic they had put on him and spelled our weapons. When I reached the Witch’s Grove, Jarin was there.”

  Ravyn swallowed and licked her lips. “Did I see things right? Did Sybbyl get away with the staff?”

  Carac glanced away. “Aye. Jarin healed your wounds before we left the Grove, but you did not wake. As we made it out of the Grove, there were others waiting for us. Edra and Radnar.”

  “How?”

  “It seems that Asa’s owl was following you. It returned and told Asa that the Coven had you. Edra and Radnar went to aid you, and they had help.”

  She raised her brows. “Who?”

  “A woman named Malene, who is Lady of the Varroki, and her commander, Armir.”

  Ravyn couldn’t believe she’d missed that. “You met them?”

  “Aye. They have a way of...jumping...long distances with magic,” he said with a twist of his lips and distaste on his features.

  “You do not care for it?”

  He shot her a flat look. “You were the only one not sick. Though not everyone traveled in such a way. Edra wanted you returned quickly, and Malene agreed. I would not be parted from you, so they reluctantly allowed me to come along, as well. Radnar, Simon, and what remains of my men returned on horseback.”

  Her fingers tightened on his. “How many men did you lose?”

  “Of the twenty? Half.”

  “I am sorry.”

  He shook his head. “I wish Jarin would have returned with them, but the warrior set out to look for Sybbyl.”

  Ravyn pushed herself up. “How long have I been asleep?”

  “Over a week. I feared you might never wake. I cannot live without you.”

  She threw her arms around his neck and held him tightly. His arms locked around her. It felt amazing to be in his embrace again because, for a moment, she had thought he was lost to her forever.

  “I love you,” she murmured.

  He leaned back and cupped her face. “And I love you. I will never doubt you again.”

  “And I will never leave you again.”

  He smoothed his thumb along her cheek. “Do you still wish to be my wife?”

  “More than anything?”

  “So you will not mind if we join in the hunt for Sybbyl.”

  Ravyn laughed. This was one of the many reasons she loved Carac. Their life together would be full of adventures, and no doubt some quarrels, but it was their love that would hold them together.

  Not just in this life, but in the next.

  Epilogue

  Two weeks later...

  “I am not calling you Duchess,” Leoma said with a smile as she hugged Ravyn before moving off.

  Ravyn beamed at Carac as more well-wishers came to congratulate them on their nuptials. Happy didn’t even begin to describe how she felt.

  “Are you sure you want to go?” Carac asked when they had a moment to themselves.

  The plan was to travel to his castle with Asa and gather more men, both to defend his lands and also to join in the war against the Coven. Asa would spell any weapons while there, and Ravyn would help with the training.

  “Aye, it needs to be done,” she replied.

  He put an arm around her and pulled her against him. “We will return here.”

  “I know.”

  “And we will find Sybbyl.”

  She looked up at him and smiled, looking into his green eyes. “Together, we can do anything.”

  “Exactly.”

  “We might get lucky,” Ravyn said. “Without any elders, maybe the Coven will fall apart. They will be easier to take down then.”

  “We can certainly hope.” He grinned down at her. “Did you not promise to show me your favorite place in the forest.”

  Ravyn smiled as she thought of the waterfall. She took his han
d as they made their exit from the abbey for some time alone.

  Sybbyl didn’t know where she was. For a long while, she didn’t remember who she was. But bits and pieces were returning. She stood in the middle of a clearing with mist so thick she couldn’t make out anything else.

  But she feared nothing.

  Because she had the Staff of the Eternal.

  Her gaze moved to the relic. Magic beat like a heart through the wood. The remnants of the First Witch were still so strong, even after all these centuries. The power was unmistakable. And it was all hers.

  Sybbyl’s mind turned to the Hunters. One in particular—Ravyn.

  She wanted to thank the woman for giving her the ultimate power. Then, Sybbyl was going to take her life. The Hunters and the witch who helped them were a nuisance that needed to be stamped out quickly.

  An image of a blond man with pale blue eyes and a staff filled her mind.

  “Warlock,” she mumbled.

  He would be hers. Because where there was one, there were more.

  The staff warmed in her hand as if responding to her thoughts. She was unstoppable now. Nothing would stand in the way of her finding the rest of the First Witch’s bones and ushering in the time of women...the era of witches.

  Coming Soon

  Look for the next Kindred book

  EVERBOUND

  Winter 2018

  Thank You!

  Thank you for reading EVERWYLDE. I hope you enjoyed it!

  If you liked this book – or any of my other releases – please consider rating the book at the online retailer of your choice. Your ratings and reviews help other readers find new favorites, and of course there is no better or more appreciated support for an author than word of mouth recommendations from happy readers. Thanks again for your interest in my books!

  Donna Grant

  www.DonnaGrant.com

  www.MotherofDragonsBooks.com

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