Like stepping through a doorway leading from the tropics to the arctic, we were in Noctria. The shimmer of magic we’d passed through was no longer visible behind us. Everything around us was in ruins, blanketed in snow. Gentle flakes drifted to the ground landing silently over us. The place was empty, not a sight or sound for as far as we could see or hear. Nothing but snow. And more snow. And cold silent winds, to amplify the barren deep freeze of this land.
My nose and cheeks grew numb with cold. We’d been walking for a time when Zanthiel spotted something in the distance. A small stone house nestled in a gorge, with thick red smoke rising from the chimney.
Zanthiel led me down the winding snow covered path. It reminded me of my last trip to Noctria, except, of course, it was far more breathtaking this time. The trees were like crystal glass, decorated with icicle prisms throwing a multi-tonal spectrum of hues through the glowing mist.
Cold swirled around my feet, numbing my toes. It smelled like frozen herbs, the way they did after a fall harvest when Gran used to freeze dry some of the excess stock for emulsions. The pungent scent somehow sharper in the frosty air.
When we arrived at the house, I felt it before I saw it. Something wasn’t right. It was all too familiar. Too cozy and idyllic to be what it seemed. The door was ajar and footprints led away from it. Zanthiel examined them. “Three sets,” he said quietly. “It appears they are not at home.”
“But someone is.” I could feel it. I moved toward the door, desperate for the heat wafting from the small opening. I almost didn’t care what we’d find inside. There was a fire and warmth on the other side. Once inside, I discovered the reason for my apprehension. In the far corner of the room, chained to a wall was Tilak, the dwarf who had saved my hide more than once in Mythlandria. I darted toward him but Zanthiel held me back.
Three ancient women stepped out from the massive fire hearth. The flames covering their body slowly extinguished, leaving no trace of burns or pain. Their protruding heads were nearly bald, holding only a few strands of shoulder-length hair. The scalp surrounding was covered in weeping blisters and boils. The stench of decay pierced my nostrils and I held my breath to inhale as little of it as possible.
I swallowed, my gaze darting from the dwarf to the witches and back.
The witches huddled close together, with empty eyes and hollow souls. Each one more horrifying than the next, their translucent skin drawn too tightly across their bony frames, and eyes bulging rimmed with red, and striped with veins. One held a handful of stones. Each with a different marking etched into its surface. She tossed them high into the air, never taking her beady eyes from mine.
“Beansidhe witches often use runes to cast,” Zanthiel said. “It is how they determine if you are who you claim to be.”
I watched as the stones fell in slow motion, as through falling through water. They landed directly in the witch's bony hand. She read the stones, decoding whatever message they held. Then the witches exchanged hushed whispers with one another.
“What are they doing with Tilak?” I murmured to Zanthiel. He didn’t respond, not that I’d expect him to. Saving lives apart from mine wasn’t on his agenda. It was on mine. Tilak had helped me more than once. I don’t know what caused his incarceration, but I was going to do what I could to free him.
“We beckon you, Ilyandra Alundra Sidhe Halfling,” one hissed in a voice sounding more serpent than human. I couldn't help but notice that her thin lips didn't move when she spoke. Yet I could not only hear her clearly, but I knew exactly which one was speaking to me.
“I came for answers, but I also want you to release the dwarf.”
Zanthiel rolled his eyes.
The witches hissed in unison like serpents on the attack. “Come to us, make us a trade and we shall give you what you are most seeking.”
One of them peered into a large stone basin filled with dark oily liquid. A scrying bowl, I recognized it from Abby’s garage. They were used for seeing into the future.
What I was seeking was the truth. Would they give that to me? I had my doubts. Witches here were not known for their honesty. It was their merciless greed for torture and mayhem that preceded them. Like Octãhvia, they were dangerous, but I had to keep reminding myself that I was more so.
Refusing to back down, I moved forward. “I have no intention of giving you anything in this trade. You will let the dwarf go free. Or you will regret it.”
Another witch with more scars than leathery skin sidled up to the first. “She’s brash.” She scowled at me. “We must kill her.”
“Hush,” the first said, keeping its beady eyes trained on me.
I refused to look back at Tilak, knowing how much pain he was in. Time was of the essence and it was critical I remained focused.
The tall slender witch inched toward me, her teeth bared, ready to take a bite. With a quick breath, I raised my hands and chanted. I can’t say that I even knew what I was chanting, the words just flowed on their own. Faster than ever before the energy built, filling me with a cold that shot from my core through my hands and straight into the witch. She reeled backward, impaled on the end of a wooden post protruding from the fire mantle. I winced in horror as she crumpled to the ground. Then as the life left her body, I clapped my hands over my mouth. Oh no.
The first witch's eyes grew wide. “Una Electa. You truly are she.”
“I am,” I said. My voice quivered. “And unless you want the same fate...” I lifted my hand, having no idea if I could pull that off again and hoping that she’d just back down so no one else got hurt. My heart pounded in my chest. I'd just killed another witch, and it bothered me that I didn't feel as ill or traumatized as I used to. I should have felt awful, but what I felt mostly was intense relief. This was over. The last witch was already rushing for her skeleton key to free Tilak. We could finally move forward, find Hawthrin. One step closer to the end.
“My queen.” Tilak came forward, shoving past the haggard witch who freed him. He offered a deep bow. The bruises on his cheeks were nearly hidden beneath his beard, but when he rose I could clearly see the slashes they’d cut into his face.
“Kinda more fugitive than queen really,” I said, drawing him into a tight hug. He smelled like tobacco and fire and pine trees. “You have no idea how good it is to see you.”
He cleared his throat gruffly. “Ah lassie, ye always did have a knack for the overdramatic. Hasn’t been that long. Yet I see much has changed indeed.” He eyed Zanthiel without further comment.
The Shadow faerie put away his sword and stalked toward the door to check outside. Then he returned to heap another of the witches’ bodies onto the raging fire.
“He’s helping me,” I whispered to Tilak when I was sure Zanthiel was out of earshot. “It’s a long story, but we can trust him.”
“I can see that. If he’s to guide you to your father, then I suppose it’s good ye trust him to help you.”
I sighed. Word really did travel fast considering the lack of social media.
The last remaining witch came forward, her keen gaze sizing up our reunion. “If it’s answers you came for, ‘tis best you not leave without them,” she said. Her body hunched over the scrying bowl, which began to churn violently. Small waves rippled across its surface, and yet not a drop spilled out.
“You are here for many purposes. None of which will find success. It is your desire to find freedom and to gift it to another. All you will find is death.”
I noticed Zanthiel straighten at her words. “I see it here. So clearly.” She pointed when she saw the look of doubt on my face. “Come, see for yourself.”
Zanthiel strode to the scrying bowl to peer inside.
“You will be hunted. You will be found. You will be killed. Before the veil is sealed, your soulless body will be returned to your homeland to rest in eternal purgatory,” the witch said.
Bleak.
“Ay lass, do not heed a word she says. These witches are a crafty lot. Can’t be trusted,” Tilak grunted.
“Unfortunately, in this they can,” Zanthiel said. “And because of this you are leaving.”
I spun to face him. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Leaving. You. Now,” he repeated stonily. Striding toward me, he took me by the arm. I wrestled to get free, but his hold was steel.
“There are riders coming for you even now as you stand. They will find you. And you will die,” the witch continued her prediction.
“Yes, I heard you the first time,” I snapped. “Zanthiel, you can’t let her scare you. I’m not going to die. And I’m not leaving. Not before I do what I came here to do.”
But he was resolute. “You are leaving now. I will ride out to hold them back. Dwarf. You must take her to the veil before it is too late. Unless you want her death upon your conscience, you will do this.”
Tilak frowned. He wasn’t afraid of Zanthiel, but he blanched at the comment.
“Tilak.” I shook my head as Zanthiel handed me over to the Dwarf. “You don’t have to listen to him,” I said.
But I was outnumbered. The whistling of flaming arrows pierced the wall and we dove to the ground for cover.
“I can cast a cloaking spell, but it will hide you only for a short time,” the witch said from behind her cauldron.
I didn’t have a chance to ask why she was suddenly willing to help us before Zanthiel gave her the go ahead to cast the spell.
Tilak grabbed hold of my hand as the witch encased us in the fiery red smoke.
When it cleared, we were in the Wyldes of Faery and neither Zanthiel, nor the witch, nor the snowy landscapes of Noctria were in sight.
I paced back and forth while the Dwarf listened to my pleas. “Tilak, you saw what I was able to do. I’m powerful. All I need is a little more coaching to learn to control it better.”
He looked skeptical, but he hadn’t shoved me though an invisible one-way door back to my world, so I kept talking. “I can do what I came here to do, to keep the people I love safe. My healing powers are failing. I’m a danger to everyone in my world right now. My father can help. Please just help me find the Summer Court of Faery and I promise you everything will be fine.”
He stroked his beard, his furrowed brows drawn tight as he considered it. Finally, he heaved an exasperated sigh. “Aye Lassie. Agreed. The knight will have me head if anything happens to you, so you best be right about this.”
“Nothing will happen to me.” I smiled and kissed the top of his head.
He blushed ferociously but grunted in reply. “I s’pose the Summer queen won’t let any harm come to you,” he said.
“Thank you, Tilak.” I exhaled a sigh of relief. “There’s still time to fix things and get back home before it’s too late.” I was getting good at sounding more confident than I felt.
“I hope yer right or it’s me head on a pike.” He gestured toward a path through the thorny bramble. “This’ll lead to the Summer Court.”
“Once this is taken care of, I have to find Venus. It’s probably safer if I return to Noctria alone. Zanthiel doesn’t need to know.”
“Well, you’ll not find her back in Noctria, dear girl. They’re in Mythlandria.”
I stopped walking. “They. You mean Adrius took Venus back to the castle with him.” I could hardly spit out the words. She’d already won favor with his father King Etienne for turning me in. I guess their union, though not real, had already been accepted. I gave Tilak a determined look. “Then that’s where I need to go next.”
“Of course it is. But I dare say not likely for the reasons it ought to be. And certainly not without yer magic in top form.”
“Tilak, you’re not obligated to—”
“Too late for that lassie, I’m coming with you,” he said. “Our fates are intertwined now.”
I smiled a little. It was impossible not to.
If Adrius was letting Venus stay with him at the Citadel then it was even more imperative that I find a way to break the binding curse enslaving him to her. Should anything happen to his father, Adrius would be crowned Mythlandria’s king, but it would be Venus, as its queen, who ruled them all.