Read Witch Bane for Free Online

can think of no one else.” Carrance
drew closer, climbing onto the first of the stairs. “She’s had
enough time to grow a few abominations of her own and teach them a
trick or two. They can hardly be a threat so soon, but if word
spreads of her success it might embolden the populace to surrender
more of their tainted boys to her, in hopes they’ll grow to be
their savior.” Carrance laughed. “It is a fragile hope that rests
upon the hands of the clock set against them. My Red Guard will
beat these dreams from their heads.”
    Deborah dropped heavily onto the throne,
fingers entwined in her lap. Staring once more at the spots, she
sighed. “Though time is in our favor for the nonce, it is but a
fleeting advantage. For all her vaunted morality, Elizabeth will
cross the same lines as we to retain her youth, her vitality, even
if only in secret. We cannot count on her fading away as we would a
human enemy. She will be a thorn in our side for many years to
come, Carrance, unless we prune the stem.” She leaned back and
pulled her gaze from her hands, meeting her fellow witch’s. “Drown
the outer villages under a rain of your Red Guard. Raze Mynistiria
to the ground, if you must, but find that warlock and make an
example of him; a very public example that cannot be missed. Be
sure you’re there to do it yourself.” She waved the Red Witch away,
who turned on her heels to comply. As the woman neared the door,
Deborah called out, “Ask Gracelin to come, and send Victor to me. I
would have a word with him, as well.”
    Carrance smiled, pushing a recalcitrant curl
of her blond hair from her face. “I thought you might. He’s
outside.”
    She pulled the door wide and gestured to
someone out of sight. A moment later, Victor Graves strolled into
the throne room and toward the dais, the muted creak of his
brigandine vest sounding loud in the quiet of the room. Carrance
gave a casual nod to Deborah and slipped outside, closing the door
on her way out.
    Victor came to stand before the stairs
and bowed deep, the tip of his sheath striking the tile floor with
a sharp clack . A wide,
double-bladed axe sat cradled in a sling upon his back. Deborah
stared at the man as he straightened. The whirling gray of his
eyes, set deep into sockets of black, met her gaze without fear.
His flowing, black beard hung heavy across the mass of his broad
chest, and the mane of his hair flowed in thick locks over his
shoulders. He grasped his burly hands before him, the calloused
knuckles standing out misshapen like the jagged peaks of a young
mountain. His bare arms bore the layered darkness of tattooed
sigils, the swirls and symbols disappearing beneath the armored
sleeves that covered his biceps.
    She stood a moment, taking in the whole of
the man as though she had never seen him before. He endured her
stare in silence, never once pulling his eyes away or fidgeting.
His confidence infuriated her. It always had, hence the reason
she’d carved her mark upon him.
    “ Any word of my daughter?” Deborah
asked, the question becoming a ritual of disappointment.
    “ She is the blood of your blood, and
is as wise in the subtle use of her powers. I hope to find her
soon.”
    The empty answer was ritual, too.
    “ She is but a girl, Victor, a mere
child of sixteen years.” Her voice hid none of her displeasure.
“Are you not the Lord of the Hunt, famed for your ability to track
the most elusive of prey?”
    He gave a quick nod. “I am, but Emerald is
no witless deer traipsing about in the woods, leaving her spore
behind. She knows well enough I’d be sent after her and has covered
her tracks well, and I’d expect no less of her given her bloodline.
I will scare her out, in time. We must be patient.”
    Deborah stood and walked to the edge
of the dais, the hem of her white robes trailing out behind her.
She held her left hand out and clenched it into a tight fist.
“ Servitus !” A shimmer of
brilliant energy misted willowy between her