Author's Note: Thanks to Vesica for the beta-reading! Be warned: this
chapter is a bit darker and noticeably bloodier than the last one. Thanks
to everyone who's reviewed - I really do appreciate it.
Chapter Four
Hunters.
The woods were rank with the psychic scent of hostile males. Liriash ghosted through the trees under the tightest sight shield she could create, but she couldn't do anything about the bloody pawprints behind her. Beside her she could feel an angry male presence - Sarahn, a Prince who'd been haunting the woods around the coven, waiting to see if any of the witches were thinking of taking a Consort. When the the first human scouts had come just before sundown, he'd thrown himself into the fight unhesitatingly; no Kindred male would leave a witch undefended.
She was grateful for his presence. There were only four witches who could fight tonight - herself, Halla, and the two daughters from Falan's last litter, grown to adulthood in the years since they'd last seen Jaenelle. And the two-legs had come down on them like a blizzard, more of them and more heavily armed than she'd ever seen before. She'd ordered the nursing mothers - including Shaleer, with the single cub from her first mating - to stay hidden in their dens; with cubs to guard, none of them would be fast enough to break through the net of hunters that surrounded them.
She and Sarahn were prowling the edges of the coven's ground, picking off straggling hunters. This was where the Webs she'd created were worth more than meat or Jewels; they could trap an unwary male, make him think he was following his companions, and lead him to a sheer drop or straight into an angry Arcerian. Others simply snared an enemy mind in dreams, leaving the body standing vacant until it died. They'd split apart, Liriash with Sarahn and Halla with Falan's two daughters, and were slowly taking the hunters down - but the Webs couldn't catch them all, and there were only five cats to deal with more than twenty hunters. She'd felt a second wave of them drop from the Winds, but when they didn't move after landing, she dismissed them as servants and turned her attention back to the hunters.
Her head snapped up, the fur on her neck bristling as she caught the scent of hunters up ahead - an acrid physical odor and a welter of greed and bloodlust in their psychic scents. Their bloodlust resonated with her own. Clumsy, heavy boots trampling through _her_ territory, spears and knives to kill and skin Liriash and her Sisters...her lips wrinkled back in a soundless snarl. She would give them something else to hold their attention.
A flick of energy from her mind to Sarahn's caught the male's attention, and he sent agreement back to her when she outlined her plan. She left his side and eeled through the underbrush as quickly as she dared, swinging wide of the three hunters until she was just ahead of them. A bolt of her birthright Summer-sky brought branches crashing down in front of them, creating an impromptu deadfall as Liriash leaped into their midst. The lead hunter saw her and fired a stream of Sapphire power that sizzled over her head when she crouched to avoid it. He didn't even bother with the boar-spear strapped across his back. _Doesn't want to ruin my pelt, the bastard_ . She backed away from him, tail lashing slowly and fangs bared. It was dangerous, but she had to keep him distracted until-
Sarahn hit them from the back, all claws and roar. The first man died instantly of a broken neck; the second bolted away under a Purple Dusk shield. Straight into the deadfall, where Liriash was waiting for him. When she looked up, Sarahn was circling the lead hunter, snarling with a sound like a thousand angry wasps. Their Jewels were more or less evenly matched, but she was worried about that spear. Frustrated, she snarled, tail whipping indecisively behind her.
*Get to the dens!* Halla's voice rang in her head. *There were more behind the first party - they're in the clearing and - Mother Night, they're _digging_*
*I heard,* Sarahn said tersely. *Go. I'll keep this one occupied.*
She bolted, sacrificing stealth and subtlety as she flew over deadwood and through underbrush. She spared only enough attention for a quick thought to Halla. *Never mind defense - scatter them! Do anything you have to, but get them to cross a Web line.*
*How? You know I can't see*
*You will,* she said grimly, and poured power into the Webs. The intricate patterns she walked every night flared with Green power for any eye to see, and from behind her Sarahn keened with triumph. She felt an anchor line thrum and go dim, and knew the male had forced his enemy into contact with the Web. If the human was lucky, his mind was gone; if not, he would be paralyzed in nightmares until someone killed him. She didn't care which.
She raced along a narrow deer trail and burst into the clearing where the coven denned, all her mind filled with the psychic scents from up ahead. Gloating satisfaction from the hunters, rage from the Arcerians - and death, human and feline alike.
Two of the dens lay open to the sky, ripped apart from the inside by human Craft. A third was under attack; Miya, their Healer, was pouring all her power into a Tiger Eye shield that guarded her den and the wounded Arcerian witch who crouched just inside. Liriash didn't bother with strategy and didn't spare a thought for the dens that had been breached, just launched herself into the thick of the hunters with a saw-edged shriek of rage. Uncontrolled Green power sparked around her as she bit and slashed. She was vaguely aware of Miya spinning shields around her, but she didn't stop until she gradually realized she was shredding long-dead meat under her claws.
*Liriash. They're dead. Stop it.* Miya took a slow, cautious step across the carnage to touch noses with her, trembling with the aftermath of holding a shield against such a sustained attack. *Are you hurt?*
*I'm well enough.* Cut, bruised, and exhausted, but not in any danger. *Keep an eye out for that idiot Prince, though; there's no telling what trouble he's gotten into.*
Miya dipped her head in acknowledgment and turned back to her patient - Arayn, a nursing mother with two cubs huddled behind her, their eyes wide with fear. Some of that fear passed itself to Liriash as she lifted her head, testing the wind for a missing scent. Arayn denned closest to Miya; the farthest den was empty. _Oh, Mother Night..._
She loped to the shattered den, sniffing anxiously even though she knew what she'd find. With scorched earth and blood-soaked snow all around her, she extended a tentative psychic probe to touch the blood.
Shaleer. Not dead when her blood hit the snow, but dying; certainly gone by now. Exuberant, inquisitive Shaleer, vanished like a bubble on the water. Grief froze her, wrenching her body into a tight crouch as her muzzle brushed the snow. No point in moving, not when she'd failed one of her Sisters.
A massive head nudged her shoulder, and she glanced up to meet golden eyes filled with understanding. *Do whatever you need to,* Sarahn said quietly. *I will guard you.*
****************
Liriash crouched at the edge of the clearing where the hunters had first left the Webs. They'd chosen their site well - it was too far past the boundaries of the coven's territory to trigger their defensive spells, but close enough to reach with a short, hard march. At a dead run, Liriash and Sarahn had covered the trail in a fraction of the time the humans would have taken, catching up with them while they were licking their own wounds and preparing their kills for transport. Four pelts - and Shaleer.
They'd taken her head.
The dead Arcerians - Shaleer, another witch, and two young males from unclaimed territory - had been skinned by the second wave of hunters while Liriash had been hunting the first, but Shaleer they'd chosen to take as a trophy. She looked almost serene, but Liriash had no doubt they would fix her muzzle in a snarl so they could boast about their bravery.
Let them boast about this.
Under a sight shield from Sarahn's Sapphire Jewels, she crept as close as she dared to the sledge, piled high with pelts and worse, next to the Carriage these men would ride home. They were hurrying - as well they should - but not really worried about a counterattack. There were too many hunters here, and the cats were too diminished for another pitched battle...but not all battles had to be physical, and nobody knew that better than a Black Widow.
She sat back on her haunches, concentrated, and used a forepaw to sketch a crude sign on the snow. Trained willpower augmented the simple symbol, and a delicate Web shone greenly in the air for a moment before settling onto Shaleer's fur and fading away. It was all she could do. It would be enough, for at least one hunter and those around him.
Sarahn put himself between her and the oblivious hunters the moment she got up, keeping a wary eye on the two-legs until they were well out of sight. *What was that?*
*A dream. Maybe a dream become flesh, if I wove it well enough.*
Sarahn's hackles lifted, and a touch of wariness filtered into his psychic scent. It was a common enough reaction; most Kindred were uneasy when a Black Widow was exercising her Craft. Especially an angry one. *I don't understand.*
*Someone* will take that - will take her head home with him. The Web I wove will draw on whatever Jewel strength is nearby to create an illusion of Shaleer. Nightmares if the hunter is weak, waking visions if he's strong. If he's strong enough, the vision may be real enough to draw blood.* And oh, how she hoped he was strong enough. Shaleer would have her revenge, it would just be delayed.
But it wouldn't change how much she missed her friend.
When the psychic touch came, she almost missed it. It was faint and attenuated, and her Jewels were almost drained - but weak though it was, it was persistent as a cub tugging at her tail. *Liriash. Sister.*
She bared her teeth and took an anxious step backward, earning a concerned look from Sarahn. It couldn't be; Shaleer was _gone_.
*I will be soon. There's not much time.*
A cool wind out of nowhere blew around her, ruffling her fur and urging her to a trail of scuffed snow, running away from the ravaged earth that had once been Shaleer's den. It circled her once and dissipated, taking what remained of Shaleer with it. But her Sister had gotten the message across, and Liriash followed the trail to the snowdrift at its end and started to dig. The snow came away easily under her paws, until they slid against an Opal shield. Sight and physical shields both, but keyed to her; as she drew back, the shields faded away from what they'd been protecting.
Shaleer's only cub. A little Warlord Prince, baby fangs bared in defiance of whatever had taken his mother. He gave her one wary look, then flung himself against her for comfort.
_Poor kitten...how in Hell's name am I going to explain this?_
Sarahn leaned over her shoulder to investigate, and reflexively she flattened her ears and snarled. Grown males were a deadly threat to cubs - for a moment she saw only the male, larger and stronger and capable of a killing fury, not the warrior who'd fought at her side since sundown.
*Lady.* Sarahn took a step backward into a formal, unthreatening stance, Protocol in every line of his body. *I will serve you, if you'll let me.* Protocol. The only way to call a Black Widow back from the killing edge. The only way to soothe a witch with a cub to protect. *Let me help.*
She didn't want to. She didn't want to do anything but hide in her den until the raw edges of all her wounds had healed over. But the offer was sincere, and she was at the end of her strength. Slowly, sanity overcame pride, and the snarl melted away. She picked the cub up gently by his scruff and let Sarahn pace her, answering the survivors' questions, as she walked to her den.
The exhausted cub slept deeply all night, with Sarahn guarding the den and Liriash curled around the cub's body to warm him. She spent most of the night weaving dreamscapes to ease the worst of the cub's grief, and sorting through Black Widow dreams and visions to see what she could learn about him. By morning she knew two things about the cub: his name was Kaelas, and she would not be able to raise him.
Chapter Four
Hunters.
The woods were rank with the psychic scent of hostile males. Liriash ghosted through the trees under the tightest sight shield she could create, but she couldn't do anything about the bloody pawprints behind her. Beside her she could feel an angry male presence - Sarahn, a Prince who'd been haunting the woods around the coven, waiting to see if any of the witches were thinking of taking a Consort. When the the first human scouts had come just before sundown, he'd thrown himself into the fight unhesitatingly; no Kindred male would leave a witch undefended.
She was grateful for his presence. There were only four witches who could fight tonight - herself, Halla, and the two daughters from Falan's last litter, grown to adulthood in the years since they'd last seen Jaenelle. And the two-legs had come down on them like a blizzard, more of them and more heavily armed than she'd ever seen before. She'd ordered the nursing mothers - including Shaleer, with the single cub from her first mating - to stay hidden in their dens; with cubs to guard, none of them would be fast enough to break through the net of hunters that surrounded them.
She and Sarahn were prowling the edges of the coven's ground, picking off straggling hunters. This was where the Webs she'd created were worth more than meat or Jewels; they could trap an unwary male, make him think he was following his companions, and lead him to a sheer drop or straight into an angry Arcerian. Others simply snared an enemy mind in dreams, leaving the body standing vacant until it died. They'd split apart, Liriash with Sarahn and Halla with Falan's two daughters, and were slowly taking the hunters down - but the Webs couldn't catch them all, and there were only five cats to deal with more than twenty hunters. She'd felt a second wave of them drop from the Winds, but when they didn't move after landing, she dismissed them as servants and turned her attention back to the hunters.
Her head snapped up, the fur on her neck bristling as she caught the scent of hunters up ahead - an acrid physical odor and a welter of greed and bloodlust in their psychic scents. Their bloodlust resonated with her own. Clumsy, heavy boots trampling through _her_ territory, spears and knives to kill and skin Liriash and her Sisters...her lips wrinkled back in a soundless snarl. She would give them something else to hold their attention.
A flick of energy from her mind to Sarahn's caught the male's attention, and he sent agreement back to her when she outlined her plan. She left his side and eeled through the underbrush as quickly as she dared, swinging wide of the three hunters until she was just ahead of them. A bolt of her birthright Summer-sky brought branches crashing down in front of them, creating an impromptu deadfall as Liriash leaped into their midst. The lead hunter saw her and fired a stream of Sapphire power that sizzled over her head when she crouched to avoid it. He didn't even bother with the boar-spear strapped across his back. _Doesn't want to ruin my pelt, the bastard_ . She backed away from him, tail lashing slowly and fangs bared. It was dangerous, but she had to keep him distracted until-
Sarahn hit them from the back, all claws and roar. The first man died instantly of a broken neck; the second bolted away under a Purple Dusk shield. Straight into the deadfall, where Liriash was waiting for him. When she looked up, Sarahn was circling the lead hunter, snarling with a sound like a thousand angry wasps. Their Jewels were more or less evenly matched, but she was worried about that spear. Frustrated, she snarled, tail whipping indecisively behind her.
*Get to the dens!* Halla's voice rang in her head. *There were more behind the first party - they're in the clearing and - Mother Night, they're _digging_*
*I heard,* Sarahn said tersely. *Go. I'll keep this one occupied.*
She bolted, sacrificing stealth and subtlety as she flew over deadwood and through underbrush. She spared only enough attention for a quick thought to Halla. *Never mind defense - scatter them! Do anything you have to, but get them to cross a Web line.*
*How? You know I can't see*
*You will,* she said grimly, and poured power into the Webs. The intricate patterns she walked every night flared with Green power for any eye to see, and from behind her Sarahn keened with triumph. She felt an anchor line thrum and go dim, and knew the male had forced his enemy into contact with the Web. If the human was lucky, his mind was gone; if not, he would be paralyzed in nightmares until someone killed him. She didn't care which.
She raced along a narrow deer trail and burst into the clearing where the coven denned, all her mind filled with the psychic scents from up ahead. Gloating satisfaction from the hunters, rage from the Arcerians - and death, human and feline alike.
Two of the dens lay open to the sky, ripped apart from the inside by human Craft. A third was under attack; Miya, their Healer, was pouring all her power into a Tiger Eye shield that guarded her den and the wounded Arcerian witch who crouched just inside. Liriash didn't bother with strategy and didn't spare a thought for the dens that had been breached, just launched herself into the thick of the hunters with a saw-edged shriek of rage. Uncontrolled Green power sparked around her as she bit and slashed. She was vaguely aware of Miya spinning shields around her, but she didn't stop until she gradually realized she was shredding long-dead meat under her claws.
*Liriash. They're dead. Stop it.* Miya took a slow, cautious step across the carnage to touch noses with her, trembling with the aftermath of holding a shield against such a sustained attack. *Are you hurt?*
*I'm well enough.* Cut, bruised, and exhausted, but not in any danger. *Keep an eye out for that idiot Prince, though; there's no telling what trouble he's gotten into.*
Miya dipped her head in acknowledgment and turned back to her patient - Arayn, a nursing mother with two cubs huddled behind her, their eyes wide with fear. Some of that fear passed itself to Liriash as she lifted her head, testing the wind for a missing scent. Arayn denned closest to Miya; the farthest den was empty. _Oh, Mother Night..._
She loped to the shattered den, sniffing anxiously even though she knew what she'd find. With scorched earth and blood-soaked snow all around her, she extended a tentative psychic probe to touch the blood.
Shaleer. Not dead when her blood hit the snow, but dying; certainly gone by now. Exuberant, inquisitive Shaleer, vanished like a bubble on the water. Grief froze her, wrenching her body into a tight crouch as her muzzle brushed the snow. No point in moving, not when she'd failed one of her Sisters.
A massive head nudged her shoulder, and she glanced up to meet golden eyes filled with understanding. *Do whatever you need to,* Sarahn said quietly. *I will guard you.*
****************
Liriash crouched at the edge of the clearing where the hunters had first left the Webs. They'd chosen their site well - it was too far past the boundaries of the coven's territory to trigger their defensive spells, but close enough to reach with a short, hard march. At a dead run, Liriash and Sarahn had covered the trail in a fraction of the time the humans would have taken, catching up with them while they were licking their own wounds and preparing their kills for transport. Four pelts - and Shaleer.
They'd taken her head.
The dead Arcerians - Shaleer, another witch, and two young males from unclaimed territory - had been skinned by the second wave of hunters while Liriash had been hunting the first, but Shaleer they'd chosen to take as a trophy. She looked almost serene, but Liriash had no doubt they would fix her muzzle in a snarl so they could boast about their bravery.
Let them boast about this.
Under a sight shield from Sarahn's Sapphire Jewels, she crept as close as she dared to the sledge, piled high with pelts and worse, next to the Carriage these men would ride home. They were hurrying - as well they should - but not really worried about a counterattack. There were too many hunters here, and the cats were too diminished for another pitched battle...but not all battles had to be physical, and nobody knew that better than a Black Widow.
She sat back on her haunches, concentrated, and used a forepaw to sketch a crude sign on the snow. Trained willpower augmented the simple symbol, and a delicate Web shone greenly in the air for a moment before settling onto Shaleer's fur and fading away. It was all she could do. It would be enough, for at least one hunter and those around him.
Sarahn put himself between her and the oblivious hunters the moment she got up, keeping a wary eye on the two-legs until they were well out of sight. *What was that?*
*A dream. Maybe a dream become flesh, if I wove it well enough.*
Sarahn's hackles lifted, and a touch of wariness filtered into his psychic scent. It was a common enough reaction; most Kindred were uneasy when a Black Widow was exercising her Craft. Especially an angry one. *I don't understand.*
*Someone* will take that - will take her head home with him. The Web I wove will draw on whatever Jewel strength is nearby to create an illusion of Shaleer. Nightmares if the hunter is weak, waking visions if he's strong. If he's strong enough, the vision may be real enough to draw blood.* And oh, how she hoped he was strong enough. Shaleer would have her revenge, it would just be delayed.
But it wouldn't change how much she missed her friend.
When the psychic touch came, she almost missed it. It was faint and attenuated, and her Jewels were almost drained - but weak though it was, it was persistent as a cub tugging at her tail. *Liriash. Sister.*
She bared her teeth and took an anxious step backward, earning a concerned look from Sarahn. It couldn't be; Shaleer was _gone_.
*I will be soon. There's not much time.*
A cool wind out of nowhere blew around her, ruffling her fur and urging her to a trail of scuffed snow, running away from the ravaged earth that had once been Shaleer's den. It circled her once and dissipated, taking what remained of Shaleer with it. But her Sister had gotten the message across, and Liriash followed the trail to the snowdrift at its end and started to dig. The snow came away easily under her paws, until they slid against an Opal shield. Sight and physical shields both, but keyed to her; as she drew back, the shields faded away from what they'd been protecting.
Shaleer's only cub. A little Warlord Prince, baby fangs bared in defiance of whatever had taken his mother. He gave her one wary look, then flung himself against her for comfort.
_Poor kitten...how in Hell's name am I going to explain this?_
Sarahn leaned over her shoulder to investigate, and reflexively she flattened her ears and snarled. Grown males were a deadly threat to cubs - for a moment she saw only the male, larger and stronger and capable of a killing fury, not the warrior who'd fought at her side since sundown.
*Lady.* Sarahn took a step backward into a formal, unthreatening stance, Protocol in every line of his body. *I will serve you, if you'll let me.* Protocol. The only way to call a Black Widow back from the killing edge. The only way to soothe a witch with a cub to protect. *Let me help.*
She didn't want to. She didn't want to do anything but hide in her den until the raw edges of all her wounds had healed over. But the offer was sincere, and she was at the end of her strength. Slowly, sanity overcame pride, and the snarl melted away. She picked the cub up gently by his scruff and let Sarahn pace her, answering the survivors' questions, as she walked to her den.
The exhausted cub slept deeply all night, with Sarahn guarding the den and Liriash curled around the cub's body to warm him. She spent most of the night weaving dreamscapes to ease the worst of the cub's grief, and sorting through Black Widow dreams and visions to see what she could learn about him. By morning she knew two things about the cub: his name was Kaelas, and she would not be able to raise him.