Enchantment (9 page)

Callum might be dead. Or he could be held captive by the warlocks. Or maybe they would be lucky and meet him on the way back.

But they met no one and eventually reached the clearing where they’d left Callum and the warlocks the day before. The place was empty. Tallon dismounted and helped Shayla down from the horse. He searched the clearing and finally found the tracks leading away. It appeared they were heading back to the stone circle, which is what Tallon would have expected.

He hoped they would have the element of surprise. That Malachai wouldn’t believe they would risk coming back for Callum.

If Malachai had one weakness, it was that he often failed to understand what motivated others. Especially if those motivations were dramatically different from his own.

“We’ll walk from here,” Tallon said.

He unsaddled the horse, removed the bridle, and leaned in close, breathing in the animal’s warm breath. “Go in peace.” The horse gave him one last look and then whirled around and cantered off in the direction they had come. Probably returning to the meadow.

Tallon took Shayla’s hand, and together they headed toward the stone circle. As they walked, flowers sprang up on either side of them.

~*~

They approached the circle silently, and halted at the edge of the tree line. Shayla could see Malachai and Callum, but the guards were nowhere in sight. Maybe there was a chance after all.

Callum was bound with his hands behind his back. He stood against one of the huge standing stones. Malachai was before him, a knife in his hands.

“Stop,” Tallon said. His voice was low, but carried across the clearing.

Malachai glanced over his shoulder, shock flaring on his face as he took in Shayla and Tallon standing side by side at the edge of the circle. Then he turned back and lunged the knife toward Callum. Shayla screamed as Tallon leaped forward, but he was too far away. The blade sank into Callum’s chest. Malachai released his grip, and kicked out, sending Callum crashing to the ground the knife lodged deep in his heart.

For a second no one moved. Then Shayla ran forward and dropped to her knees beside the fallen warlock.

Fear filled her, but as she watched, Callum’s lids flickered open. She pulled out the knife and tore open his shirt revealing the ragged hole in his chest. A spurt of blood welled up from the wound, but then the edges knit together until the damage was healed. She stared at the knife in her hand—the blade was real.

How could he have survived? “Hard to kill the dead,” Callum murmured.

He glanced over her shoulder and a grim smile marred his features. She followed his gaze. Malachai had backed away and was staring at Callum a look of horror on his face.

“You’ve killed me once, Malachai. I guess the gods won’t allow you to do so a second time.” Callum rolled onto his side. “Untie me.” Shayla used the knife to slice through the bonds, and Callum pushed himself onto his feet. Where his shirt hung open, Shayla could see the smooth swell of his chest, daubed in blood, but showing no mark where the knife had been. He crossed to one of the huge stones where his staff leaned against the rock.

She turned her attention to where Tallon stood, his sword pointed at Malachai, the tip against his chest.

“Where are the others?” Tallon asked.

Malachai said nothing, and Shayla could almost see his mind working furiously, searching for a way out.

“He sent them back to the Keep,” Callum said. “I’m guessing he wanted no witnesses to what he was about to attempt.”

“And what was that?”

“An escape route from a dying land. They might become suspicious if they realized he was searching for a way to flee Arroway, leaving them behind to rot. He thought my sacrifice might help ease the way.”

“Why now?”

“I’m guessing that without Shayla’s magic, he can’t strengthen the spell binding the Goddess. She’s restless and it’s making him a little nervous.”

“Well not for long. This ends now.” Malachai swallowed, his face pale beneath the olive tone of his skin. Shayla tried to feel some sort of satisfaction, this man was responsible for so much. But all she wanted was for it to be done and over.

He licked his lips. “You’d kill me? Your own father?”

“If he won’t, I will,” Shayla said.

Malachai turned to look at her. She had the distinct impression that despite the mark on her cheek that proclaimed her a powerful witch, he had never recognized her as a threat. Now, for the first time he really saw her.

She glanced at Tallon. How would it feel to kill your own father? He shouldn’t have to do this. She should take the burden from him. She’d never taken a life but she would do this for Tallon.

But he shook his head.

“Kneel,” Tallon said.

Shayla realized what he meant to do. Tallon was the Enforcer—he had executed many in his time and this was how it was done. With one swing of his sword, he could decapitate his prey.

When Malachai failed to move, Tallon grabbed his shoulder and shoved him to the ground.

“Wait,” Callum stepped up beside him. “Give me the sword.” For a second, Tallon hesitated, then he nodded and handed the blade hilt first to Callum. He came to stand beside Shayla and took her hand in his, gripping it tight. He might look impassive, but this was bothering him far more than he showed. Which was as it should be. Taking a life should always be a difficult task however well deserved the death. She wanted to turn away but forced herself to watch. Her fingers squeezing Tallon’s.

Callum raised the blade. But as he stepped forward, a white light flashed above them. Shayla felt the now-familiar tug of magic. She knew instinctively what was happening and without conscious thought, she leaped forward, dragging Tallon with her. She managed to grab hold of Callum’s arm as the magic pulled her toward the bright light and the world around her vanished.

Shayla blinked. The sun was bright, and she couldn’t move, could hardly breathe. A heavy weight lay on top of her, pressing her into the hard ground.

Squinting up at the light, the last of the air left her lungs in a sigh of relief. She was sprawled on a familiar green hillside, in brilliant sunshine, and the heavy thing on top of her was Tallon.

She wriggled and felt him shift. He lifted himself up on his elbows and stared down at her.

“Here we are again,” he murmured. “Not the best timing in the world. It seems my father will live to fight another day.” He leaned down and gave her a swift kiss, then rolled off her to lie on his back. “I feel like crap.” Shayla almost smiled—the shift seemed to affect Tallon far more than her, but at least this time he was conscious. Sitting up, she looked around her. Callum was close by, and she heaved another sigh of relief. He was staring at something, his expression filled with wonder, and she followed his gaze.

They were on a grassy hilltop, surrounded by a ring of stones and at the far side a group of three people stood regarding them.

Two women and a man. For a moment, her world stopped and then she scrambled to her feet, clumsy in her overwhelming need to move. She ran and hurled herself into the arms of the shorter woman.

The familiar arms held her tight as they had done all through her life, and for long minutes, she burrowed herself in her mother’s embrace.

Finally, she stepped back and stared her fill. She reached her hand out and touched the sickle moon that decorated the perfect smoothness of her cheek.

“Then there were three,” a voice said from beside them.

Shalya tore her gaze from her mother to look at the man standing beside her. He was tall, at least a foot taller than Shayla.

With short-cropped dark red hair and green eyes.

Her father.

He was regarding her expectantly, and she forced a smile.

“Thank you for saving my mother.”

“I think it was the other way around,” he replied wryly.

Then his words registered.
Then there were three
.

She glanced from her mother to Casterix. The taller woman stood in profile, staring at Callum as though she couldn’t believe he was real. Shayla could see the small scar on her cheek where she had cut the mark from her skin.

Three witches with the mark, together, as the Goddess had foretold.

Tallon came up behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders, pulling her against him, wrapping his arms around her waist. Shayla relaxed back and took a slow deep breath, as the last of the fear and worry seeped from her body.

Her mother was alive and well, they were safe for the moment, and Tallon was beside her where he belonged.

Tomorrow would be time enough to save their world.

Nina Croft grew up in the north of England. After training as an accountant, she spent four years working as a volunteer in Zambia, which left her with a love of the sun and a dislike of 9-5 work. She then spent a number of years mixing travel (whenever possible) with work (whenever necessary) but has now settled down to a life of writing and picking almonds on a remote farm in the mountains of southern Spain. Nina’s writing mixes romance with elements of the paranormal and science fiction.