Chapter 19

CHAPTER NINETEEN

F ionna couldn't believe she'd met her grandmother. Of all the things she'd expected on this trip, actually finding family never even made the list.

She didn't remember much of her childhood with her parents. Could barely recall their faces, just the feeling of being loved.

Amelia had told her that part of the reason why the magistrate contacted the witches' keep was because they could find no family for the orphaned Fionna. Given what she'd done, placing her with the witches seemed the best solution.

While sad she'd missed out on knowing Lady Frieda because of a falling out over her parents eloping, Fionna also couldn't deny being glad she'd trained as a witch. How horrible it must be to have powers and not understand them. To live in a place where people would condemn you just for being born different.

The warlord appeared quite taken with his new sword, stroking it as they rode, leading her to ask as they approached his citadel, "You appear to be in love."

He startled and barked, "Am not."

She arched a brow. "Says the man rubbing his new weapon like a lover."

"Oh." He glanced down at it. "It's strange, but something about it calls to me."

"It wasn't the one depicted book," she remarked. "I wonder if it was constructed after."

"Does it have the same magic as the other items?"

"Yes, plus some. First off, it's made of elekium, the most reliable metal you can use against monsters. On top of that, you can see on the hilt and the blade itself that it's got the same protective runes as your bracers, but also others. I recognize a few. Strength. Endurance. Even one for light."

"Why would a sword need light?"

"Because you might find yourself in a dark place?" she quipped.

He snorted. "I have a flint for that."

As they entered the courtyard, she scrambled off her mount before Kormac could help. Each time he touched her, she felt slightly faint. Was it possible to be allergic to someone? For some reason, she thought of some of the other acolytes in the keep, those who swooned over men. They too claimed weakness and heart palpitations when a male that interested them paid them any mind.

Her? Like the warlord? Fionna wasn't given to such foolishness. Even if she were attracted, she'd never act on it. What would it accomplish? Nothing, but maybe some of that stickiness the others spoke of.

"Where are you going?" Kormac barked as she strode for the entrance of the castle.

"To report to my queen." She didn't wait for a reply as she went to her room.

The mirror was answered almost immediately and showed Amelia in her office, sipping tea. "Hello, Fionna. How go things in Srayth?"

"Convoluted." She paused and said, "I met my grandmother today."

Amelia spat out her tea. "I thought you had no family."

"According to my mother, I didn't, however that wasn't true. Lady Frieda is still very much alive and claims I am the mirror image of my mother."

"How wonderful for you." Amelia sounded pleased.

"Yes, but it's not the reason I contacted you. We've discovered more of those talismans against the thing possessing people. There was also a drawing." Fionna described it to Amelia before showing her the warning printed on it.

Amelia's lips tightened. "Now there's a symbol not often seen, not since the world broke and Acca flooded."

"You recognize it?"

"I do, but first a little explanation. Regular witches can manipulate the elements. That symbol stands for sorceress. A sorceress is a woman who can do all the things a witch can, but who also gains power from the life force and death of living things."

"How does one use death?" Fionna frowned.

"I don't know. I've never known anyone with that gift."

"That's good because this warning seems to state that a sorceress is what will set it free."

"Assuming the warning is accurate. You've said this thing claims it will soon escape."

Fionna chewed her lower lip. "It did. But it could be lying."

"You'd better hope it is because if it gets loose…"

They might not be able to stop it.

"Did you ever find out what that symbol on the talisman means?" Fionna asked, switching topics.

"No. But mostly because we've been distracted. The repair on the keep is almost complete. Who knew brick laying took so much effort. Worse, this fix is temporary. I've sent out messages to our allies, asking if they have any masons willing to come work here for generous compensation."

"I'm sure someone will accept your offer."

"I hope so. I'd hate for the keep to tumble about our ears." Amelia leaned forward so only her face appeared in the mirror. "What's your next move?"

Fionna held up her bag of items from the marketplace. "Removing the curse from Lomar."

"Will it be dangerous?"

"Most likely."

Amelia sighed. "Is one man's life really worth your own?"

"It's not just one man, though. If this curse spreads, Srayth will be in serious trouble as we don't have enough talismans to protect everyone."

"Very well. Keep me apprised, and if it works, I'll want the full accounting for our records."

"Of course." All new spells and procedures, successful or not, were noted in the archive for reference. It was something they began only a century ago after Maisy—a witch who used to serve at the keep—died without teaching anyone how she turned water to wine. Or so the stories claimed.

Fionna ended the mirror connection and paced her room, going over in her head how she would proceed with Lomar. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her of the hour. Before the warlord could fetch her and start even more tongues wagging, she headed for the dining hall, arriving early enough no one sat at the head table. She preferred to sit in a corner, eating quickly and quietly, but the side eyes from those present made it clear she wasn't welcome to sit with or near them.

Despite her ducked head, she knew the moment Kormac entered the room. She didn't look. Didn't have to because he sat right beside her instead of in his chair.

She cast him a glare.

He smiled and drawled, "Fine evening."

"If you say so."

"How's your dinner?"

She glanced at her mostly empty plate before saying, "Done. Enjoy yours."

She rose and left, but he followed, escorting her to her room, hovering close enough that she couldn't help but be hyper-aware of him.

And hot.

So very, very flushed.

"You're annoyed," he stated, leaning against the doorjamb while she grabbed the bag from the market.

"It's like you're purposely trying to give your people the wrong impression," she huffed rather than admit having him near discomfited.

"What happened to men and woman can be friends who converse?"

"Elsewhere, yes. Here, they think the moment your mouth opens in my direction it's because we're intimate."

"Would that be so bad?"

"I don't want a lover."

"Meaning you don't currently have one waiting in Acca?"

"No. I told you I chose a life of celibacy." Her chin lifted as she stated, "I'm a virgin with no interest in sex."

He somehow managed to fall out of the doorway but recovered quickly, stalking in, his eyes intent as he rumbled, "I thought that meant you'd sworn off sex, but… You are untouched?"

"Yes."

"How is that possible?"

"Because I didn't lift my skirts or part my legs."

"But you're beautiful," he blustered.

"And?"

"And you should have had men falling over themselves trying to seduce you."

"They've tried. I wasn't interested." She didn't mention none ever made her pulse race or hands sweat.

But he guessed and said, "Because they weren't the right men." He stepped closer and her heart started its rapid pounding and her nether regions tingled.

"Is it so hard to believe I just don't want it?"

"Are you sure of that?" he murmured, standing in front of her, forcing her to tilt her head to see his expression.

"Yes."

"I say we test that theory."

Before she could ask what he meant, he showed her. His hands gripped her around the waist and lifted her that he might press his lips to hers. A rub of mouths that she'd always thought dumb.

That was before Kormac kissed her.

Sensations bombarded her body: tingling, heat, a fluttery sensation, and a throb between her legs.

His mouth slanted over hers, exploring and caressing her lips, but shocking was when he touched her tongue with his!

She moaned. Not in discomfort, but pleasure. How did something so strange feel so good?

Voices in the hall had him suddenly setting a wobbly Fionna back on her feet.

She stared at him, her lips puffy, her eyelids heavy, her body aching and hot.

"Still going to say you're not interested?"

Rather than lie, a flushed Fionna grabbed her bag and fled the warlord who didn't stop her.

Good, because she didn't know what to say, think, do.

As she hit the main level, a bell started clanging. The sound led to people scurrying, women dashing inside, guards running out. Kormac went to rush past, but she snared his sleeve.

"What's happening?"

"Whoever is on watch thinks we are under attack."

"By whom?" she huffed, only to hear a distinctive bugling. Her eyes widened. "Dragon."

"What? No, it can't be. The only one we've seen is several days' ride from here," he exclaimed, striding for the main entrance.

"They can fly, you know," she riposted.

He whirled. "I'm aware. Now excuse me while I go save my city from it."

Kormac exited the castle with the other soldiers trotting behind, and she shook her head, muttering, "He's going the wrong way."

With an aerial predator, being on the ground was only beneficial to those with heavy spears and a strong arm to fire them. For a witch, the higher the better.

Fionna gathered her skirts and raced up the steps of his tower, the highest spot she knew. There were no soldiers outside his door, nor was it locked. She rushed in and dropped her bag on his bed before she headed to the window for a peek.

She saw nothing at first. Not in the sky at least. On the ground, soldiers formed squares in the courtyard, preparing to march into battle. Only this wasn't an enemy that could be fought hand to hand. While spears had the thrust to penetrate the softer joints, elekium blades were the best against dragons as they could slice through just about anything. Of course, elekium being rare, many people didn't have those kinds of weapons. The warlord did, but he didn't have it out. She saw him standing amidst the forming battalions, a spear in one hand, the sword still in its sheath.

All those people standing in the open made perfect targets for the dragon flying in low. She spotted it in the distance, its scales shimmering silver and blinding in the waning sunlight. It didn't resemble the marsh versions, nor the ones she'd heard of plaguing the desert.

As it opened its mouth to exhale, it hit her suddenly what the bestiary meant when it said, Beware the frost.

Too late.

Ice crystals spewed from its mouth and coated the parapet as well as the men lining it. The soldiers froze in place.

The dragon swung around coming in for another pass.

Kormac didn't panic, but bellowed, "Take cover."

While situated as high as she could get, Fionna had a terrible angle for attack. "Should have worn my combat leathers," she grumbled as she grabbed hold of her skirt and clambered onto the windowsill. She didn't even have her wooden bird. Hopefully her magic wouldn't let her fall.

Twining strands of air, she levitated to the roof of the tower, using magic to brace her feet to avoid sliding on the inclined surface of smooth clay tiles. As the dragon swept towards the citadel, readying another frosty breath, she knew she had to find a way to distract it as well as bring it closer. Her magic had limits and distance was one of them. The farther away the target, the more her magical missiles would degrade when fired. Still, a weak shot was better than none.

She twisted her hands and flung them, sending a jolt of lightning to zing the dragon in the nose. The unexpected sting had the dragon screeching and pulling up, its planned attack forgotten, but only because it chose a new target.

The person who hurt it.

A slight breeze ruffled Fionna's hair as she stood braced on the roof. Her hands already wove the next spell. She pulled the heat from the tiles that had baked all day in the sun, twined it with the warmth still lingering in the air. A ball formed in front of her, a sizzling globe of fire.

The dragon flapped for her, and as she kept growing her missile, she looked it in the eyes, the orbs cold as ice. As it opened its maw, she unleashed her fireball, sending it straight into its gullet.

The dragon bellowed and thrashed in the air. Rolling. Twisting. Screaming in pain and rage.

As it plummeted to the ground, she smirked.

Who needed a spear?

Not her.

As the dragon crashed to the ground and the soldiers emerged from hiding to hack at it, she prepared to climb back into Kormac's room when the bell began clanging again. She whirled to see three more dragons approaching.

Now there was a challenge. Her hands wove again, pulling the little bit of heat remaining in the air and roof, coiling those threads into a tight ball. As the dragon leading the vee formation opened its mouth, she shot her missile.

And missed as her target suddenly banked!

No matter. She immediately formed another fireball, but the dragons angled away from her, heading for the town spread out before the citadel. Too far for her to aim properly. She needed them to turn back.

She let the fireball extinguish and began a different weave, a more complicated one as wind could be finicky to manipulate. Luckily, with grim determination as her guide, she got it to obey the shape of her spell, a small tornado that spun and grew as it headed for the dragon dipping down to a slate-covered roof. The torrent of air caught the dragon's wing and sent it off balance, crashing it against the building. The limp dragon slid down to the street, dazed but not dead. It rose on its clawed feet but couldn't fly, not with its mangled wing. She ignored it for the ones still in the air.

She saw one aiming its frost at a fountain that bisected the road at an intersection. When she'd passed it earlier in the day, it had been crowded with people. At least they'd all fled.

Seeing the water gave her an idea. Quickly she reached for it, stretching her magic to the limits as she strained for the moisture in the basin. Just seconds before the beast could do its thing, she had the water spew upwards.

The dragon's breath hit the stream and it froze, a tower of ice that the creature slammed into. Not enough to bring it down, but as she'd hoped, it got mad. It flapped into the air, moving higher and higher, shrieking in annoyance.

"That's it, come to me you overgrown lizard," she muttered as her hands once more churned, tugging at any thread of heat she could find.

The beast flew at her hard and she held on to the ball of explosive energy until the last moment, not wanting to spook the dragon. It must have caught on to her strategy because it kept its mouth closed and rose up at the last moment, extending its claws.

Fionna threw her magic and flattened herself to the roof, covering her head. The dragon screeched but a peek showed it still aloft, flapping in place above her.

She quickly tugged at more elements, shaping them quickly into a lance of light. As the dragon hissed in her direction, she flung it.

The dragon couldn't avoid its sharp, magical tip. The spear went through its belly and began to glow. Still connected to the spell, she unraveled it. Not gently as she'd been taught to avoid backlash, but rapidly, hoping it would?—

Boom. The explosion almost sent her sliding off the roof, and she scrabbled to keep hold, tearing her fingertips as she sought purchase. Chunks of dragon landed on her. Gross, but good.

She'd killed it. She rose to her feet carefully, trying to avoid the gore slicking the surface of the tiles on the roof. Where was the third?

Instinct more than anything turned her in time to see the missing dragon breathe.

A good thing she'd learned to conjure a shield with barely a thought. It sprang into place as the frosted expulsion hit.

The shield protected. She didn't freeze, but the tile underfoot did. It turned into slick ice which might have been fine but for the dragon that aimed for her. The shield held against the swipe of its taloned foot, however, she lost her balance. Despite her windmilling arms, she hit the roof on her butt and slid.

She once more clawed for purchase, however, the slick ice refused to let her grip. She couldn't stop her fall. She slid right off the edge and plummeted.

Quickly, she began weaving, tugging at the air only to gasp, her spell shattering as someone caught her!

Big arms dragged her through the window and an angry warlord yelled, "What were you thinking?"