Chapter 28

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

T he box felt light in her grip. Lighter than the weight of her decision at any rate.

Remove the ring.

She hesitated. It glowed and tingled fiercely, doing its best to protect, but that wouldn't save Kormac whose shallow breathing showed he neared the end.

The ring dropped to the floor with barely a sound. She flipped open the lid of the box and from it boiled darkness. A roiling mass of threads that engulfed her, leading her to open her mouth wide in a silent scream.

Alien thoughts entered her mind, images of things she'd never seen or experienced. Death, blood, terror. Koschei's memories were vile, and his hatred for all things living a bottomless well.

As he exulted in his freedom, she forced herself to remain focused, her mind still her own, if crowded.

Through stiff lips she muttered, "You promised to help him."

Her own mouth replied, "It's so easy you could have done it yourself."

She didn't control her hands as they hovered over Kormac, twisting and plucking the strands of sickly green threading his aura. It bundled them until only one thick stalk remained, one that connected to his heart.

"A little bit of blood," Koschei murmured, her voice deeper when he used it. The wound in her palm was squeezed for some drops, and she watched in fascination as he shaped the blood strands, made them into an esoteric dagger. A dagger that plunged into Kormac's chest.

She gasped. Kormac grunted and went rigid.

"You killed him!" she exclaimed.

"Killed the poison," Koschei corrected.

It took her a moment to realize Kormac wasn't bleeding and the green poison turned dark before fading away. Immediately, he breathed easier, the pallor in his face already diminishing.

He'd live, and knowing that, time for her to be as brave as Laurella. She tried to reach for the dagger in her ankle sheathe only her hands wouldn't cooperate.

Koschei tsked. "Tricky witches always going back on their word."

"I never promised you anything," she gritted out.

"You and I are bound now. Nothing but death will tear us apart and I don't plan on that happening for a long, long time." Koschei chuckled just as Kormac roused and sat up.

"Fionna?"

She held out her hands. "Stay away. He's inside me."

Kormac's expression went from shocked to horrified. "Put him back in the box."

"She can't. We are bound until death." Koschei tugged her lips into a grin.

Kormac recoiled before bracing his jaw to grit out an angry, "Get out of her."

"Why would I leave when it took me so long to find the right vessel?" Fionna's low timbre held Koschei's mocking tone.

She fought against his presence to make a demand she knew Kormac wouldn't like. "Kill me. Kill me now before he has complete control."

Right away, Koschei rebutted with, "Yes, kill the woman you just laid with." Fionna's arms spread wide. "You're the mighty warlord. Known to be tough. Do it. Kill her. Run her through with your sword. Or don't. You can still have your witch. But even more than that, you will have me by your side, helping you to become more than a warlord of a small chunk of land. Imagine being a king of all the countries. Fionna your queen. Together, you could rule the world."

Kormac appeared torn, his sword pointed down as he struggled. Not with the offer of power, but with the reality of what he had to do. He knelt and whispered, "I can't do it. There must be another way."

"If you won't, I will." From behind Kormac, Lomar surged, dagger in hand, moving fast.

Koschei raised Fionna's hands to deter him, but she just as quickly put them down. The strain as they fought was broken by the slide of the blade into her chest.

"No!" Kormac rose and swung wildly, his blade narrowly missing Lomar who danced out of reach.

Fionna fell to her knees, the pain in her chest intense, but nothing compared to the rage of Koschei. "You fool! Do you know how hard it is to find a blood witch?"

As her blood poured, so did Koschei's essence, spilling from her and aiming for the lone box on the floor. Preparing to hibernate and wait for the next victim.

"No," she gasped. She pressed a hand to her chest, trying to stop the flow of blood. She pointed to the box and wound the threads of her life into another dagger, this one to cut the line tethering Koschei's essence to the box.

The inarticulate scream that resounded in her head made her flinch and the dark miasma abruptly changed the direction of its flow, heading back for her.

Having some of Koschei's memories meant she knew it needed a body, even a dying one, if he was to create a new vessel to store his essence while he sought a new blood witch. As if she'd let him use her to survive. She smeared both her hands in blood and raised them, forming a shield so dense Koschei could only hammer against it.

Let me in or we both die.

"Never," she muttered, holding her shield even as her strength failed. Better she die holding him off than let him use the last of her energy to hide himself in a new object.

She wavered on her feet, watching as the boiling mass of evil pummeled against her shield. As it stretched and massed, she noticed knots and clumps in the essence. Bungled threads of Koshei's aura. It made her think of a lesson she'd had, one given by Amelia about ethics.

"Everything is made up of threads. Trees, rocks, air, even people. One must be careful because if we pull too much from the living, we risk causing harm."

"Healers use them," Fionna had pointed out. She'd avidly watched when she'd gashed her leg climbing a tree and required magic to fix the wound.

"Yes, they use a person's own threads to repair their body but again, have to be careful because too much tugging could lead to the patient dying."

"Is it possible to borrow someone else's? Someone not injured?"

Amelia's lips had pursed. "As far as I know it's not possible. If it were, though, I'd caution against it. Who are we to decide whose life is more worthy?"

"What if it were taken from an enemy to save an ally?"

"I'm not arguing about something impossible."

Only Fionna could now see how it was done. As she stared at the remains of Koschei's life force, a tangle of dark knots, she did something risky, possibly something that she would regret. But she did it anyhow. She began tugging at the tangled mess, pulling free a single strand and weaving it into her wound. Then another. And another.

Koschei noticed and his agitation ceased as he screamed, What are you doing?

Simple, taking what she needed to survive. She couldn't manipulate her own body's threads to fix herself, but she could use someone else's. Someone the world would be better off without.

She plucked more threads, and the mass began to show thin spots.

No. You can't do that. You're not supposed to be able to. The dark mass went to flee the cave, but she followed, her steps staggering, but determined.

As she trailed the diminished Koschei, she grabbed more and more of his lingering life force, dark because it lacked a body. Dark because of the evil that kept it alive beyond the norm. She kept blending it into her wound, the magical weaving knitting the flesh, the threads she took changing color as they merged with hers. Lightening. Becoming her own.

A ragged Koschei, his essence showing holes and thin spots, shot out of the cave and hovered in the air as if uncertain where to go. Panicking.

I need a body. I need…

"To die," Fionna stated. Feeling stronger, she grabbed with both hands, tugging apart what was left. Shredding it, scattering it to the winds until there was nothing left.

Nothing but her.

Or so she hoped, before she collapsed.