Chapter 31: Children
She'd met Zyra at the age of 8. Before that she'd been with her mother. Ginger mostly remembered the sound of her voice, and the soft catch in it as she told her "Stay here," and disappeared into the forest. Her hair was thick and brown like her own, the soft waves brushed her face more than rags and soap. She was a dirty child, and they were always on the move. She was not sure why her mother had abandoned her on the Rovian lands. She'd sat there in the forest for three days until Chieftess Kyzyra had seen her out the corner of her eye, curled up in a patch of wild onions, her face dirty and her eyes wild. One of the huntresses had to drag her from her little nest and throw her over her back.
She had fought and cried. She told them she was waiting for her mother. They carried her in silence. That woman like many others had perished in the Akeeran raid.
Sixteen years later Ginger was sitting high in a Rovian tree net, staring at her fire on the ground. She had not thought about it until now. This was the first time since then that she'd been alone in the forest.
Heck, she'd never been in a Rovian net alone. She hardly slept alone either. Being alone was like being dipped in the river on a brisk morning. It was jarring, it cleared your mind, and when you looked at the vastness of the horizon, it made you feel very small. She wondered if Zyra felt that way.
Ginger rolled onto her back. It was a full moon tonight.
Her skin tingled with the memory of Luneh. The boy as pale as moonroot milk, who had stolen her heart, and run away with it when he became a man. Typical. Ever since he'd shed those blue eyes and fluffy white hair, he'd been lost to her. Not that she had ever had him. Still, her heart ached for him. She had no more interest in the Ursie men the celebration brought, only their extremities, and from her own exploits she had come to realize that the main joy of the celebration would not be hers. Her womb was cursed. She'd been fucking without restraint since she came of age. She had not been a mother, not even once, and furthermore she was not sure if she had it in her to be a mother. Taking care of Zyra was a tough job
and they were close in age. Nima was like her niece. Perhaps that was good enough.
She let out a sigh. The stars reminded her of a bright blue boy with bright blue eyes. She paused. Actually, they weren't blue anymore. In a way she had lost that boy already. She'd lost him the moment he crossed. She would not lose Zyra. Ginger turned on her side and squeezed her eyes shut. She should have brought a fur. She'd forgotten the key of the Rovian net was the shared body heat which made travel lighter. Oh well. With any luck this trip would disabuse her of romantic notions. Right now she had a mission. Find Zyra, tell her about the strange circumstances around Paj's death, and get her to come home.
----
It had been four days since Caligula left the valley. Some of the gray witches had left with him. Others were unsettled. Witches rarely fought and when they did, they upset the balance every time. Zyra had not slept in The Tree since the incident, and Medean did not sleep at all. Etaceh felt the emptiness of their beds.
Her beautiful marble nest was empty.
Etaceh stared into the pool and watched Zyra as she huffed, an ogress on her back as she trudged to the Selkie's pool. And for what? Some aimless quest to find a young ogre who was currently having the time of his life? How Zyra had come to know of the properties of Nymare's pool was unknown to her, but she hoped this day off would give Zyra the clarity she needed. It was a petty errand, one that could have been easily handled if Zyra had gone to her, but Zyra was smart. Too smart to believe this childish charade had any meaning. She was purposefully stalling.
Zyra had as much certainty about whom to live with as Etaceh had about Scallen's underground network. She could map them all out and still stumble onto another. Scallen was in fact powerful, and Etaceh was the strongest witch in the Marble Tree, but neither of them could best a resurrected witch. Not even together. A witch was almost impossible to kill, and it was banned by the Dark Council for any witch to slay another. Yet they had found a loophole, and with it made him as dead as they could. He should have been ripped apart body and soul from the grief of his son, and the emptiness of the void. He should have gone mad as bit by bit he dissolved into the fabric of the universe, instead he had clung to a string, clawed his way back, and became a resurrected witch.
A resurrected witch could not die. Any doubts of Creedon's return had been swept away. His gall at entering into the valley to speak with Zyra, going so far as to use an astral projection could have made the witch scream. He had shown himself and yet they could not seek him out. It made her ill, but she no doubt deserved this.
Etaceh knew she was not stainless in this venture. She knew she would pay for her sins, but not the valley, never those under her charge. She was a sadist not a monster. She took a step from the pool and the water turned black. Outside the grass was glistening with dew, and the gray witches bustled about in the shadows collecting it for divination spells. I
Caligula got a hold in the valley of the Marble Tree, they'd be the first to go. It was inevitable. She looked at her thin white fingers unmarred by callous or wrinkle. How old was she? How long had it been? Surely too long. She'd been careless.
The peace those creatures felt as they charged about in revelry and sex was coming to an end. The only force that could defeat Creedon now was the GanMo.
As if dealing with Creedon wasn't hard enough.
Etaceh waved over the black water, and saw one of its four scattered pieces. She knew where the hilt was at least. The GanMo sword was the most perfect weapon ever to exist. Or it had been before it was deemed too powerful and broken. The GanMo was crafted piece by piece from four sacred implements, and she would need Zyra to retrieve them. The hilt was on cursed ground starved dry of magic and so desolate that a creature like her would be stripped of her powers the moment she stepped foot on it. The poor land would suck up her magic to repair itself and fail.
Someone like Zyra was needed. She had magic, but spellcasting was not her primary power. She could use her natural human abilities to attain the piece. Unfortunately the other three pieces were a mystery. Legend said that the pieces called out to one another and the chosen one would be able to hear them. Legend also said that anyone foolish enough to touch the unfinished sword would be cursed by it and die a slow agonizing death. Legends were funny like that. Chosen one or not, they could use a locator spell once the first piece was found, but they were running out of time. Zyra still had to be trained in the four basic divisions of magic.
She had progressed at a wondrous rate but her magic was almost entirely instinctive. Her offensive magic was great, but her defenses were weak. She could make a shield. Elementary. Soon Zyra would face real opponents, and if she thought her ability to take hits would win her a fight she was sorely mistaken. She needed elemental magic, defensive magic, and practical magic. She needed to be able to solve any problem that arose, levitate to a high window, create a bush to break her fall, deflect an attack or heal broken bones. She could so none of those things, but worst of all, the girl lacked strategy. Her strategy was to hit things. True her methods yielded results, but collecting the GanMo would take finesse and concentration.
Once created the GanMo would pierce Creedon's hold to the physical plane, but also kill him in the afterlife. If a half-dead Creedon could not be allowed to exist, Creedon needed to be scrubbed from existence. Zyra was so unprofessional about all of this, so unpredictable. It was going to make managing her much harder alone.
Etaceh held her head in exasperation. "This would have never happened in Paris."
She needed help, just not Caligula's. She thought to Scallen and her blood boiled. That damned favor. If Zyra chose Scallen he would be in charge of training her. No doubt he could teach her adequately, but she was more concerned with the ideas he would put in her head. A week with Scallen and Zyra would never trust her again. Etaceh knew she had spent their first encounter torturing her, but that was before they'd become friends. Or she realized she was...well, a person.
She hadn't seen a human in a few hundred years. She was a surprise, a new toy she'd wanted to play with. She regretted not protecting her more
ot doing something when she'd come to her lesson smelling like the lust milk of Acaron. Etaceh suspected Caligula was up to no good and told lies to make Medean assure Zyra would not be drugged again. An "outbreak of sprite powder poisonings," how idiotic had she been? Well the time for ignorance was over.
She strode back to the pool and waved a hand over it. Nymare was bathing herself, looking around her cautiously. Closing her eyes
Etaceh dipped a pale hand in the pool. She felt her astral projection dive into the water, and when she opened her eyes, she stood in front of the Selkie.
"Enjoying your bath?"
Nymare jumped and hissed, her face contorting. It immediately became fearful as she realized whom she had hissed at.
"My lady, forgive me! You startled me. I..."
"Spare it Selkie, you're about to get a visitor."
Nymare flinched and stood up, her back rigid.
"If this is about failing to mate, I assure you my lady—"
"I don't care about that," Etaceh scoffed. "If you intend to be the last of your kind so be it. There are other Selkies in the realms that will sire children. The Valley will be fine without you."
The Selkie winced and lowered herself in the water. Eh, perhaps she'd been too honest.
"What I mean to say is...you know what? It doesn't matter. Zyra the keromedio is going to pay you a visit. She is friend to Rell the Ursie if you recall him."
"I do," she said.
"Good. Then you will remember that she is a violent direct person. She comes to you to seek answers for a question she dare not ask. You will provide her with that answer. Quickly if you care for yourself."
"How my lady?"
Etaceh rolled her eyes. "Do I have to do everything? Make something up! Show her something that will ground her. This Valley is going to be destroyed if she doesn't get her well-defined ass in line! So show her something that will stop her distraction. Give her clarity or comfort, or common sense, a C-word! I want you to give her a C-word that will stop her foolishness, is that clear?"
Selkie nodded slowly. "...Crystal."
Etaceh smiled and waved a hand, dissipating her image. "I'll be watching..."
---
"You remember what I asked you Henna?"
Henna looked up at her Master who even now sent chills down her spine.
"Yes, Master. You said I need to fetch something."
Creedon adjusted a sleeve, and gestured towards the cave opening.
"Night has fallen so this endeavor will be easy. I want you to go the river, when they send your deceased, and retrieve that black flower for me. You will no doubt find it...altered, but you will bring it here without question, understood?"
"Yes, master."
Henna gathered up her cloak and trudged out to the woods. The night was warm considering the season, and her footsteps crunched fallen leaves without fear. Nightlocks were the least of her worries, and she had no more desire to fear them. Especially after such a display of affection from Lord Creedon, and especially since he needed her. Henna had never felt more necessary in her life. She'd never known she had craved that feeling, to be of use and irreplaceable. Perhaps that was one reason why she hated Zyra.
Zyra, who was the Rovian model of excellence, who with Kyzu banished her from the huntress life, who had given her no choice but to abandon her home and wander the woods like a beast of the field.
She thought back to Kail and the pleasure he had brought her as he pounded her, touched her gently, softly, unaware to whom he fornicated with. Many times she had to restrain herself from dropping her guise. She always wanted to do it right before his orgasm. When he clenched and his face contorted in pain, past the point of stopping, she wanted to reveal herself. She wanted to laugh in his face.
When she reached the river's edge she immediately noted that it appeared changed somehow more sinister. Dark shadows rocked on the river floor. Looking closer she realized that the water was in fact darker. She bent down, slowly put a hand and waited for a reaction, or pain. Nothing. Henna's fingertips extended, brushed the shadow and her heart jumped in her chest when she felt something soft.
Gingerly she pulled at it and it came loose in her hand.
