Sorceress Awakening (11 page)

Until he had time to discover what had
happened to her in the battle goddess’s kingdom, he couldn’t trust her, no
matter how much his heart wanted to.

“Then tell me what I need to know. Teach
me.”

“You make it sound so easy. There is so
much you must learn. I scarcely know enough of your words to explain in a way
you’ll understand.” He sighed, his brows drawing together in thought. What was
safe to tell her? He rubbed at his forehead, mildly surprised when he didn’t
encounter horns. Already this hybrid body was beginning to feel ordinary.
Natural—like the tenderness he felt for his lady. And that was the danger.

There was so much
he
didn’t know.

For now, a half-truth would have to do.
“Think of Realms as worlds within worlds. The smallest, centermost one, is the
Mortal Realm, where we are now. The one surrounding it is the Magic Realm,
where the Twins were banished. The last and greatest, the Spirit Realm,
surrounds the others. All the Realms are protected and separated by the Veil—a
great weaving of magic composed of all the elements. As I said before, when I
came to the Mortal Realm, I damaged a small section of the Veil separating the
two realms. Something from the Magic Realm may have followed us here.”

“Can the Veil be repaired?” Lillian
questioned. “Can I send the Riven back to the Magic Realm and seal them there?”

He hesitated while he chose the next
fragments of truth he hoped would satisfy Lillian’s curiosity. “Depending on
how many of these Riven are here and how strong they have grown, I might
require help to kill them or banish them. Once the enemy is defeated, I can
seal the tear that permitted their invasion in the first place. But all of the
Riven must be routed from this land or they may be able to reopen the rift.”

“How do you know all this?” Lillian asked.
“You’re less than a week old.”

“Like all gargoyles born of a dryad mother,
I carry many of her memories with me—absorbed along with the food and water
while I was a part of her tree. And as I’ve said before, I have memories from
my other lives. More resurface each day.”

“Right.”

Lillian’s word was one of agreement, but
her tone and the set of her shoulders said otherwise. Sighing out a deep breath,
he wondered if he’d ever understand his lady in this lifetime. She was so
different in her speech and her manner.

“Why do you remember all this and I don’t?
What happened to my memories if it wasn’t a drowning accident?”

His stomach contracted into a tight knot.
“You were not strong enough to travel through the Veil. You were damaged.” His
words sounded rushed to his own ears.
Merciful Divine Ones, please don’t let
her guess, not yet.

“You did mention the Veil before,” she
said, her eyes thoughtful. “Will I heal in time?”

“I believe so.”
Please, don’t let that
be another lie.

“In the meantime, what are we going to do about
these Riven? And why this Realm? You call it the Mortal Realm, like it’s the
poor cousin. What benefits would they gain by coming here?”

Gregory nodded his head, pleased she’d
asked a question he could answer without lying to her. “Here they have the
freedom to gather both strength and numbers, free from the Lady of Battles’
notice.”

“They’re planning to set up their own
dictatorship. Lovely.”

“Yes, I fear that is so. However, I have
more immediate concerns,” Gregory rumbled as he looked at her anew. She was
coping with her new situation remarkably well. It was time to test her magic to
see if he could detect any taint upon it. “Your hamadryad—your tree,” he
explained, when he saw the look of confusion on her face, “was wounded during
the attack, and I didn’t have the strength to heal both the tree and you. I
placed a weaving over the injuries to protect against further damage, but the
wounds need tending. I would appreciate it if one of the dryads would guide you
in learning a dryad’s magic.” He pointedly focused on Sable. “I can supply
strength and my blood if needed, but the actual act of healing isn’t one of my
greater skills.”

“I would be honored.” Sable bowed, and then
straightening, she glided up next to Lillian. “Come, little sister. I will
direct you in the use of a dryad’s power.”

Lillian glanced back at him questioningly,
but Sable tugged on her arm and dragged her in the direction of the back door.
He tracked the pleasant sway of his lady’s hips as she descended the stairs.
Alone now, shadows curled around his body, hiding him as he summoned his
gargoyle form. When he had his familiar shape back, he dropped to all fours and
followed the lingering scent of dryad.

* * *

Hot, humid air hinted at the chance of an
evening thundershower. Gregory hoped for one. Perhaps it would wash away some
of the stink. He wrinkled his muzzle in distaste. The mixed odors of slaughter,
old death, and burnt flesh hung over the grove. If they managed to awaken
Lillian’s dryad magic, it might help purify the grove. Her natural dryad magic
wasn’t linked to her powers as the Sorceress, so it should be safe for Lillian
to summon it without triggering any trap left by the Lady of Battles. He hoped.

Shadows cast by the maze’s west wall
stretched across the glade as the sun eased closer to the horizon. A slash of
white glowed among the darkness. As it came closer, the pale shape glided
between the slender trunks of the trees, weaving and bucking in his joyous
frenzy. Had the unicorn kept his antics up all day? Probably.

Gregory had eaten rabbits with more
intelligence.

The stallion bolted straight toward
Gregory. He wished the unicorn’s natural power wasn’t to see past deception.
Dirt and bits of grass bombarded him as the unicorn skidded to a halt within
arm’s reach. Gregory’s displeasure increased when the unicorn pranced over to
Lillian with his neck arched and tail sailing like a banner in the wind. The
unicorn bobbed his head and rubbed his muzzle against the dryad. Lillian
laughed and stroked the unicorn’s nose, and then moved up to scratch the base
of his spiral horn.

Gregory directed his thoughts at the
stallion.
“Have you forgotten it was a woman who tempted you into taking
human form and caused your . . . predicament?”

“I have not forgotten.”
The unicorn rolled an eye in Gregory’s direction.
“But she’s
very pretty and she smells delicious.”

“And you look and smell like food, too.”
Gregory warned.

“Predators are all the same, but you’re
worse than most. Do you even know what a sense of humor is?”

“No.”

The unicorn inched away from Lillian.

Content, Gregory returned his attention to
Sable. She and Lillian had come to a stop at the base of the hamadryad. Sable began
the first lesson, unaware of what went on between gargoyle and unicorn.

“Feel your tree,” Sable was saying, “her
life force humming under your hands. She is the source of your power and your
strength. From her you draw life. Without her there is only death.”

Lillian glanced back at him and then beyond
the arch of his wing to the remains of the shattered stone circle. She paled.
But a moment later, she straightened her shoulders and placed her hands on her
tree in a decisive move.

Pride swelled in his heart. His lady was
strong. The Sorceress always had been—but this lifetime he had worried she
would not be strong enough. For once he was happy to be proven wrong.

Lillian leaned forward until her forehead
rested on the rough bark of the tree, scant inches beneath the lower of the two
long slashes. The blue lattice of his weaving still glowed in the shade cast by
the upper canopy.

“Even though she doesn’t know the first
thing about being a dryad, she has the nicest hamadryad I’ve ever seen.” Kayla
appeared at Gregory’s shoulder, standing so close she might as well have leaned
against him.

Taking a step in Lillian’s direction didn’t
get his point across and Kayla shadowed his move, coming alongside him again.
Gregory cleared his throat. “My lady has many skills.”

“The way you say ‘lady’ makes it sound
intimate, yet she isn’t your lover, is she? Don’t try to lie to me; I’ve seen
how she looks at you, and it isn’t lover-like.”

“We’ve known each other a very long time. I
use it as a mark of respect. I don’t suppose
you
know anything about
that.”

Kayla had been studying the redwood, but
snapped her head in his direction. “I’ve insulted you.” Her eyes narrowed. “Or
perhaps ‘upset’ is a better word.” She leaned forward, eager as a hound to the
hunt. “She might not desire you, but you desire her, don’t you?”

Gregory squashed the urge to groan. Once
again, he’d revealed more than he wanted. There was no point lying to her.
Perhaps she’d leave him alone if she thought he had already made his choice of
mate. “Yes, what gargoyle would not?” He hoped she’d believe the simple truth
and deem there was nothing else to it.

She studied him an instant more and then
turned back to watch what was unraveling at Lillian’s tree.

“Do you feel it?” Sable asked her student.

Lillian nodded her head. “Yes, it’s . . .
it’s so much, such strength. Why did I not know of this before?”

“I’d ask your gargoyle that question, were
I you. Perhaps because you didn’t know your true nature, you had no idea this
was even possible, so didn’t try.” Sable gestured at the hamadryad. “Now direct
some of the power you feel into the redwood. Visualize the wounds. Imagine all
signs of dirt and disease pushed from those wounds. Good. Now envision the
wound knitting together, the edges closing, the bark intact once again.” Sable
patted Lillian on the shoulder. “Excellent, young one. It comes so naturally to
you. It will not be long until you are truly a dryad in all ways—
what are
you doing?
”

The startled edge to Sable’s tone jolted
Gregory into action. Power raised the hair at the back of his neck and tingled
in his lungs as he drew another hasty breath. This was not a dryad’s weaving.
This was energy drawn from the Magic Realm—an act of power as the Sorceress,
not just a dryad. He rushed to Lillian’s side and placed a hand on her
shoulder. When she turned to him with power bright in her eyes, he knew how
dangerous the situation had grown while he’d been distracted by Kayla’s
probing. Power bled from Lillian. It bubbled up from the Magic Realm, flowing
across the land like a spring-fed brook, Lillian its headwater. The current
caught at his wings, tugging at them.

“My lady, you have healed your hamadryad
and using more magic now might be too taxing.” He spun another web of
half-truths, not caring if she figured out later she had been lied to. The
Magic Realm was bad enough, but if he didn’t stop this now, she might switch
and draw power directly from the Spirit Realm.

“I don’t feel tired at all. This is
wonderful . . . I can feel the evil shriveling and dying all around the meadow.
It’s magnificent. Look,” she said as she pointed toward where the stone circle
lay shattered. Magic shimmered along her arms, barely visible, like heat waves
in the desert. “I can fix it and make it stronger, watch.”

Sable took one look at Lillian’s arms and
took several steps back. With shock replacing her normally serene expression,
the older dryad’s gaze followed where Lillian pointed. Gregory held his breath.

Fragments of stone rose up from the grass
as Lillian returned the shattered stones back to their proper places. Stone
pillars formed out of the rubble. Not a stone ring or piece of gravel was out
of place or showed even a hint of damage where her magic touched. Power
continued building. She’d said she could make it stronger. No doubt she could,
but not with the supplies she had at her call here. She needed additional
materials and better-quality stone if she wanted to create a more powerful
ward.

Small tremors under his feet warned him he
needed to stop this now. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, subtly
absorbing the power she’d summoned before it could cause an unbalance in the
natural world. “Enough. Listen to me. You’re not yet ready for this.”

“But I’m doing it. Look, it’s wonderful.”

“You don’t have what you need to make the
circle stronger—if you try to force extra power into those stones, the circle
will erupt like it did when the Riven attacked you.”

“I can control this. I know I can.”

He shook her. “Do you want to be
responsible for the deaths of Sable and Kayla?”

His meaning must have penetrated her
power-drugged mind. She froze, and then paled. “I wouldn’t harm you or the
others. I’d stop before the stones became stressed.”

“How would you know when they reached that
point?”

“I . . .” Her shoulders hunched and the
vast flow of magic dwindled. “You’re right. What am I doing?”

He held her until the trickle of power died
away. Magic strained under his skin, filling him to the point of pain. A neigh
from behind him had never been so welcome. A moment later, the unicorn started
siphoning power. When the magic was a more manageable presence, Gregory looked
over his shoulder and inclined his head in thanks. The unicorn echoed the
motion, and then with a spray of grass and clumps of mud, the stallion bounded off
into the shadows of the grove.