Page 225 of The Daughters of Avalon
Wilhelm’s brain focused on the cacophony surrounding them—the ceaseless shrieks of birds, the battle cries ringing in the distance, the clang of steel against steel. Morwen must have guessed at his thoughts, for she smiled. “Alas, you may have suffered your worst fears for naught.” She bounced the babe in her arms, greedily eyeing the tome in his hand. It grew heavy as solid steel in his hand.
“Intemperance will be the undoing of men—you are rash and thoughtless,” she declared. “But I shall, indeed, give you the child, and you may descend to find yourself surrounded by carnage—not unlike the day you returned to find Warkworth in ash.” She smiled thinly. “Of course, you know, I did linger that day,” she confessed. “As you must have sensed. I felt you,” she admitted. “I spoke to you—and, oh, how I reveled in your pain. I had a bird’s view, if you please.” And she laughed again, still bouncing the babe.
It was all Wilhelm could do not to rush at her and pummel her face as he would a man’s. Fury mounted inside him, overtaking his fear. “Take the Book!” he demanded, thrusting it out to her, refusing to give her the satisfaction of reliving his worst nightmare. “Give me the child,” he said. “Or, by God, I will strangle you with my own hands.”
He might try it anyway, he thought, though he knew beyond a shadow of doubt this woman was not of this world. If he opted for vengeance, he and the child would both die.
She laughed in response to his threat, and then, it happened like a dream… She leaned forward, her body fluid, spilling the child into his arms, somehow seizing the Book at the same time.It was an impossible feat that left him blinking in confusion. “Fool,” she whispered in his ear, and the single word was filled with glee.
She drew the Book to her breast and closed her eyes victoriously as he heard a sudden explosion below, the roar climbing higher and higher. One glance down revealed more of that bright blue flame wending its way upward, burning the tower from below.
Wilhelm stood, frozen. God help him, there was nowhere to go. Without the child in his arms he might have taken a chance, diving into the flames, but he would never risk the babe… and yet, if he stood here doing nothing, they would both perish. “We had a bargain,” he screamed.
The witch answered with a slow, conniving grin. “So we did,” she said, and without another word, she transformed herself before his eyes into a creature not unlike the one he’d spied in the woodlot south of Whittlewood and Salcey. Leaving only plumes of smoke, she burst from the tower with a peal of laughter, taking the Book with her and leaving Wilhelm alone with the child.
Chapter
Thirty-Four
To Seren’s dismay, the circlet began to spread inward, as though the tower itself had inhaled the flames. It burned so brightly the entire glade lit with that strange blue light. “Nay,” she screamed. “Nay, oh nay!”
With the battle raging all about her, she rushed toward the circlet. “Rhiannon,” she screamed. “Goddess, please! Help me! Somebody, help, please!”
No one came. No one answered.
Her sisters, astride their steeds, wielded their weapons against Morwen’s army. Rosalynde moved through the melee with her glowing sword drawn, striking down everyone in her path. Her steward remained at her back, dispatching all she missed. Elspeth too had been swept into the fray, fighting for her life, swinging her blade and shouting words that came to naught.
By the power of earth, fire, air and water, my Goddess, I beg protection.
By the power of earth, fire, air and water, my Goddess, I beg protection.
Seren whirled again to face the tower. She had no weapon in her possession—nothing—but her fury raised a storm that shook her mother’s birds from nearby trees. With cries of protest, the birds launched into the swirling wind, into the fray, pecking furiously at the heads of allied soldiers.
Crying out in fear as they came for her, with their beady eyes and bloodied beaks, Seren peered at the tower through blood-stained hands, praying to anyone who would listen.
Bring him back.
Goddess, please, keep the child safe.
Even as she watched, something black erupted from the tower, roiling like smoke, unfurling wings as it soared skyward.
As suddenly as the battle was engaged, it stopped.
Morwen’s soldiers vanished.
It happened so swiftly no one could be sure what transpired. Like their master, her soldiersshapeshifted, then took wing, pursuing their dark angel. But the tower itself was still aflame, burning so brightly that the stone glowed like the metal of Rosalynde’s sword. Second by second, the flames licked higher, higher, tendrils reaching out through each window it passed, spreading so swiftly Seren hadn’t time to think, only feel…
“Nay,” she screamed. “Nay!”
Morwen had betrayed them. She had fled with the Book, leaving the love of her heart to be consumed bywitchfire.
Wilhelm would not survive it.
The babe would not survive it.
Her throat thickened with emotion. The first tear came unbidden, and with it, came a single drop of rain. Another tear, and another drop, and within an instant, came the deluge. Only Seren understood what it was… and she knew because it was not the first time.
Witchwater—witchwater, pure and true.Witchwaterto put out thewitchfire.
