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“Aren’t you a lovely surprise,” the woman murmured. “Tell me, would you like to leave this room and come with me to a place where you won’t have to be afraid?”
“Is it far?”
“Yes, but we shall ride a horse.”
“I’ve never ridden a horse,” Fionna admitted, wondering if the lady would change her mind.
“Then you shall learn. The place we shall go to has teachers.”
“A school?” Her eyes widened. She’d heard of them. Places of learning for those who could afford it.
“Of sorts. We teach more than just your letters and numbers, though. In addition to lessons, you will have your own room. Proper meals. And fine clothing to wear. What do you think?”
It sounded like a dream. She nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
Fionna left with the woman, whom she noticed everyone kept a wary distance from. The horse was huge in her eyes, but the woman had no problem lifting Fionna to sit before her on the saddle.
The journey was wondrous, and she learned much. Such as the woman’s name—Amelia—and the fact she was a witch who sought out children with the gift of magic like Fionna. They travelled to Mystic Keep, the home of the reclusive witches in the Acca marshes, a stone fortress with many hidden passages and secrets.
What began as a tragedy turned out to be the best thing for Fionna. She became a novice who caught on to her lessons quickly. As a teen, Amelia took her as an apprentice. By the time she’d turned twenty-one, she’d become a full-fledged witch with a strong gift in all of the elements. When Amelia ascended to the throne, Fionna was by her side, glad to serve the woman who’d changed her life for the better.
She would have most likely never left the Keep if evil hadn’t emerged to plague the world. A world that suddenly had a use for witches.
CHAPTER ONE
Decades later…
The soldier arrivedin Kormac’s war room dusty and exhausted. According to a whispering Lomar—Kormac’s general who had eyes and ears everywhere—the soldier’s steed collapsed the moment the man slid from its back. Judging by the marks at its mouth and the cold sweat sheening its body, the horse had been ridden hard.
The soldier, unshaven and smelly even from a distance, staggered in Kormac’s direction. The guards he passed did not offer any aid. To do so would be an insult.
Sitting on his throne carved from a single piece of obsidian, Kormac studied the weary man and wondered what had befallen him. He didn’t recognize the fellow, but that didn’t surprise. His horde numbered in the thousands.
“Warlord.” The man dropped to a knee and thumped his chest while dipping his head in respect.
“Your name?” Kormac asked while wondering why his forearms tingled where his long sleeves hid the bracers he woretight to the skin. An odd sensation that he’d never experienced before.
“I am Ioan, formerly of Greenhead Valley, Warlord. I come bearing grave news from the garrison at the Risead Pass.” A pass to the far east of Kormac’s territory, eternally guarded despite the lack of civilization past it. The Andeir mountain range separated them from the valley of mist beyond it.
Many didn’t understand why the warlords—not just Kormac, but those who came before him, as well—kept sending soldiers to the Risead Pass to stand watch. It seemed pointless and yet “Guard the Risead Pass” was part of his oath when he took command. That was it. No reason given as to why, but out of respect for his ancestors, he still did it to this day.
Kormac’s brow arched. “A long journey. You’d best have a good reason for abandoning your post.”
“Not abandoned, Warlord. Sent by Lieutenant Khaal, the garrison commander, due to an emergency.”
“An emergency that merited you travelling leagues and days rather than sending a message by bird.” The fort at Risead kept a coop of kalmais, birds trained to fly back and forth between the Wexkord, the capital of Srayth, and whatever garrison they were assigned. Using the birds avoided delays in imparting important developments.
“The kalmais are dead, Warlord. Everyone is,” Ioan blurted.
The news rocked Kormac, and it took him a second to control his reaction. His nearby general didn’t hide his expression of shock.
“Everyone?” Lomar asked in a low tone.
The soldier nodded.
Disturbing news, and not something that should be common knowledge until Kormac knew more.
“Lomar, clear the room,” Kormac ordered his second as he eyed the guards at the far end of the room manning the doors.Far enough they shouldn’t have heard, and even if they had, they knew better than to talk. Still, best to not test them. He’d hate to have to make an example because of loose lips.
